UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


THE  QUEEN  OF  -SHEBA. 


6508    8 


THOMAS  BAILEY  ALDRICH 


THE 


QUEEN  OF   SHEBA 


BOSTON 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
New  York:  11  East  Seventeenth  Street 

Ofe  fltoetfi&e  $te*&  CamfcriDfle 


Copyright,  1877, 
BY  T.  B.  ALDEIOH 


TS 

O  2,5 

a  8 


To  H,  L,  P. 

This  Story,  the  greater  part  of  which  lies  amid 
scenes  indissolubly  linked  with  the  memory  of  days 
and  nights  passed  in  your  companionship,  is  affec- 
tionately inscribed  to  you  by 

THE  AUTHOR. 


\  0  2v 

jQ  V 


CONTENTS. 


PAGX 
CHAP.  I.    MARY 9 

II.  IN   WHICH   THERE   IS   A  FAMILY   JAR     .           .               26 

III.  IN  WHICH  MARY  TAKES  A  NEW  DEPARTURE  .      39 

IV.  THE  ODD  ADVENTURE  WHICH  BEFELL   YOUNG 

LYNDE  IN  THE  HILL  COUNTRY  ...      48 

V.  CINDERELLA'S  SLIPPER        ....           92 

VI.    BEYOND  THE  SEA 106 

VII.    THE  DENHAMS 127 

VIII.  FROM  GENEVA  TO  CHAMOUNI  .        .        .        .153 

IX.     MONTANVERT 189 

X.  IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  MONT  BLANC  .        .        .221 

XI.  FROM  CHAMOUNI  TO  GENEVA      .        .        .         267 


THE  QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 


i. 

MARY. 

TN  the  month  of  June,  1872,  Mr.  Edward 
•*-  Lynde,  the  assistant  cashier  and  bookkeeper 
of  the  Nautilus  Bank  at  Rivermouth,  found 
himself  in  a  position  to  execute  a  plan  which 
he  had  long  meditated  in  secret. 

A  statement  like  this  at  the  present  time, 
when  integrity  in  a  place  of  trust  has  become 
almost  an  anomaly,  immediately  suggests  a  de- 
falcation; but  Mr.  Lynde's  plan  involved  noth- 
ing more  criminal  than  a  horseback  excursion 
through  the  northern  part  of  the  State  of  New 
Hampshire.  A  leave  of  absence  of  three  weeks, 
which  had  been  accorded  him  in  recognition 
of  several  years'  conscientious  service,  offered 


10  •  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

young  Lynde  the  opportunity  he  had  desired. 
These  three  weeks,  as  already  hinted,  fell  in 
the  month  of  June,  when  Nature  in  New  Hamp- 
shire is  in  her  most  ravishing  toilet ;  she  has 
put  away  her  winter  ermine,  which  sometimes 
Berves  her  quite  into  spring ;  she  has  thrown 
a  green  mantle  over  her  brown  shoulders,  and 
is  not  above  the  coquetry  of  wearing  a  great 
variety  of  wild  flowers  on  her  bosom.  With 
her  sassafras  and  her  sweet-brier  she  is  in  her 
best  mood,  as  a  woman  in  a  fresh  and  becom- 
ing costume  is  apt  to  be,  and  almost  any  one 
might  mistake  her  laugh  for  the  music  of  fall- 
ing water,  and  the  agreeable  rustle  of  her  gar- 
ments for  the  wind  blowing  through  the  pine 
forests. 

As  Edward  Lynde  rode  out  of  Bivermouth 
one  morning,  an  hour  or  two  before  anybody 
worth  mention  was  moving^  he  was  very  well 
contented  with  this  world,  though  he  had  his 
grievances,  too,  if  he  had  chosen  to  think  of 
them. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  11 

Masses  of  dark  cloud  still  crowded  the  zenith, 
but  along  the  eastern  horizon,  against  the  in- 
creasing blue,  lay  a  city  of  golden  spires  and 
mosqiies  and  minarets,  —  an  Oriental  city,  in- 
deed, such  as  is  inhabited  by  poets  and  dreamers 
and  other  speculative  people  fond  of  investing 
their  small  capital  in  such  unreal  estate.  Young 
Lynde,  in  spite  of  his  prosaic  profession  of  book- 
keeper, had  an  opulent  though  as  yet  unworked 
vein  of  romance  running  through  his  ( composi- 
tion, and  he  said  to  himself  as  he  gave  a  slight 
twitch  to  the  reins,  "  I  '11  put  up  there  to-night 
at  the  sign  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  or  may  be 
I  '11  quarter  myself  on  one  of  those  rich  old 
merchants  who  used  to  do  business  with  the 
bank  in  the  colonial  days."  Before  he  had 
finished  speaking  the  city  was  destroyed  by  a 
general  conflagration ;  the  round  red  sun  rose 
slowly  above  the  pearl-gray  ruins,  and  it  was 
morning. 

In  his  three  years'  residence  at  Rivermouth, 
Edward  Lynde  had  never  chanced  to  see  the 


* 

12  THE   QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 

town  at  so  early  an  hour.  The  cobble-paved 
street  through  which  he  was  riding  was  a  com- 
mercial street;  but  now  the  shops  had  their 
wooden  eyelids  shut  tight,  and  were  snoozing 
away  as  comfortably  and  innocently  as  if  they 
were  not  at  all  alive  to  a  sharp  stroke  of  busi- 
ness in  their  wakeful  hours.  There  was  a 
charm  to  Lynde  in  this  novel  phase  of  a  thor- 
oughfare so  familiar  to  him,  and  then  the  morn- 
ing was  perfect.  The  street  ran  parallel  with 
the  river,  the  glittering  harebell-blue  of  which 
could  be  seen  across  a  vacant  lot  here  and 
there,  or  now  and  then  at  the  end  of  a  narrow 
lane  running  up  from  the  wharves.  The  atmos- 
phere had  that  indescribable  sparkle  and  bloom 
which  last  only  an  hour  or  so  after  daybreak, 
and  was  charged  with  fine  sea-flavors  and  the 
delicate  breath  of  dewy  meadow-land.  Every- 
thing appeared  to  exhale  a  fragrance ;  even  the 
weather-beaten  sign  of  "  J.  Tibbets  &  Son,  West 
India  Goods  &  Groceries,"  it  seemed  to  Lynde, 
emitted  an  elusive  spicy  odor. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  13 

Edward  Lynde  soon  passed  beyond  the  limits 
of  the  town,  and  was  ascending  a  steep  hill, 
on  the  crest  of  which  he  proposed  to  take  a 
farewell  survey  of  the  picturesque  port  throw- 
ing off  its  gauzy  counterpane  of  sea-fog.  The 
wind  blew  blithely  on  this  hill-top ;  it  filled  his 
lungs  and  exhilarated  him  like  champagne ;  he 
set  spur  to  the  gaunt,  bony  mare,  and,  with  a 
flourish  of  his  hand  to  the  peaked  roof  of  the 
Nautilus  Bank,  dashed  off  at  a  speed  of  not 
less  than  four  miles  an  hour,': —  f or  it  was  any- 
thing but  an  Arabian  courser  which  Lynde  had 
hired  of  honest  Deacon  Twombly.  She  was  not 
a  handsome  animal  either,  —  yellow  in  tint  and 
of  the  texture  of  an  ancestral  hair-trunk,  with  a 
plebeian  head,  and  mysterious  developments  of 
muscle  on  the  hind  legs.  She  was  not  a  horse 
for  fancy  riding;  but  she  had  her  good  points, 
—  she  had  a  great  many  points  of  one  kind 
and  another,  —  among  which  was  her  perfect 
adaptability  to  rough  country  roads  and  the  sort 
of  work  now  required  of  her. 


14  THE   QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 

"  Mary  ain't  what  you  'd  call  a  racer,"  Dea- 
con Twombly  had  remarked  while  the  negotia- 
tions were  pending ;  "  I  don't  say  she  is,  but 
she's  easy  on  the  back." 

This  statement  was  speedily  verified.  At  the 
end  of  two  miles  Mary  stopped  short  and  began 
backing,  deliberately  and  systematically,  as  if 
to  slow  music  in  a  circus.  Recovering  from 
the  surprise  of  the  halt,  which  had  taken  him 
wholly  unawares,  Lynde  gathered  the  slackened 
reins  firmly  in  his  hand  and  pressed  his  spurs 
to  the  mare's  flanks,  with  no  other  effect  than 
slightly  to  accelerate  the  backward  movement. 

Perhaps  nothing  gives  you  so  acute  a  sense 
of  helplessness  as  to  have  a  horse  back  with  you, 
under  the  saddle  or  between  shafts.  The  reins 
lie  limp  in  your  hands,  as  if  detached  from  the 
animal;  it  is  impossible  to  check  him  or  force 
him  forward ;  to  turn  him  around  is  to  confess 
yourself  conquered;  to  descend  and  take  him 
by  the  head  is  an  act  of  pusillanimity.  Of 
course  there  is  only  one  thing  to  be  done ;  but 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  15 

if  you  know  what  that  is  you  possess  a  sin- 
gular advantage  over  your  fellow-creatures. 

Finding  spur  and  whip  of  no  avail,  Lynde 
tried  the  effect  of  moral  suasion :  he  stroked 
Mary  on  the  neck,  and  addressed  her  in  terms 
that  would  have  melted  the  heart  of  almost  any 
other  Mary ;  but  she  continued  to  back,  slowly 
and  with  a  certain  grace  that  could  have  come 
only  of  confirmed  habit.  Now  Lynde  had  no 
desire  to  return  to  Ri vermouth,  above  all  to 
back  into  it  in  that  mortifying  fashion  and  make 
himself  a  spectacle  for  the  townfolk ;  but  if 
this  thing  went  on  forty  or  fifty  minutes  longer, 
that  would  be  the  result. 

"  If  I  cannot  stop  her,"  he  reflected,  "  I  '11 
desert  the  brute  just  before  we  get  to  the  toll- 
gate.  I  can't  think  what  possessed  Twombly 
to  let  me  have  such  a  ridiculous  animal !  " 

Mary  showed  no  sign  that  she  was  conscious 
of  anything  unconventional  or  unlocked  for  in 
her  conduct. 

"  Mary,  my  dear,"  said  Lynde  at  last,  with 


16  THE   QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 

dangerous  calmness,  "  you  would  be  all  right, 
or,  at  least,  your  proceeding  would  not  be  quite 
as  flagrant  a  breach  of  promise,  if  you  were  only 
aimed  in  the  opposite  direction." 

With  this  he  gave  a  vigorous  jerk  at  the 
left-hand  rein,  which  caused  the  mare  to  wheel 
about  and  face  Rivermouth.  She  hesitated  an 
instant,  and  then  resumed  backing. 

"  Now,  Mary,"  said  the  young  man,  dryly, 
"  I  will  let  you  have  your  head,  so  to  speak, 
as  long  as  you  go  the  way  I  want  you  to." 

This  mano3uvre  on  the  side  of  Lynde  proved 
that  he  possessed  qualities  which,  if  skilfully 
developed,  would  have  assured  him  success  in 
the  higher  regions  of  domestic  diplomacy.  The 
ability  to  secure  your  own  way  and  impress 
others  with  the  idea  that  they  are  having  their 
own  way  is  rare  among  men ;  among  women  it 
is  as  common  as  eyebrows. 

"  I  wonder  how  long  she  will  keep  this  up," 
mused  Lynde,  fixing  his  eye  speculatively  on 
Mary's  pull-back  ears.  "  If  it  is  to  be  a  per- 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  17 

manent  arrangement  I  shall  have  to  reverse 
the  saddle.  Certainly,  the  creature  is  a  lusus 
natures  —  her  head  is  on  the  wrong  end!  Easy 
on  the  back,"  he  added,  with  a  hollow  laugh, 
recalling  Deacon  Twombly's  recommendation. 
"  I  should  say  she  was !  I  never  saw  an  easier." 

Presently  Mary  ceased  her  retrograde  move- 
ment, righted  herself  of  her  own  accord,  and 
trotted  off  with  as  much  submissiveness  as 
could  be  demanded  of  her.  Lynde  subsequently 
learned  that  this  propensity  to  back  was  an 
unaccountable  whim  which  seized  Mary  at  odd 
intervals  and  lasted  from  five  to  fifteen  min- 
utes. The  peculiarity  once  understood  not  only 
ceased  to  be  an  annoyance  to  him,  but  became 
an  agreeable  break  in  the  ride.  Whenever  her 
mood  approached,  he  turned  the  mare  round 
and  let  her  back  to  her  soul's  content.  He 
also  ascertained  that  the  maximum  of  Mary's 
speed  was  five  miles  an  hour. 

"  I  did  n't  want  a  fast  horse,  any  way," 
said  Lynde  philosophically.  "As  I  am  not 


18  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

going  anywhere  in  particular,  I  need  be  in  no 
hurry  to  get  there." 

The  most  delightful  feature  of  Lynde's  plan 
was  that  it  was  not  a  plan.  He  had  simply 
ridden  off  into  the  rosy  Juna  weather,  with  no 
settled  destination,  no  care  for  to-morrow,  and 
as  independent  as  a  bird  of  the  tourist's  or- 
dinary requirements.  At  the  crupper  of  his 
saddle — an  old  cavalry  saddle  that  had  seen 
service  in  long-forgotten  training-days  —  was 
attached  a  cylindrical  valise  of  cowhide,  con- 
taining a  change  of  linen,  a  few  toilet  articles, 
a  vulcanized  cloth  cape  for  rainy  days,  and 
the  first  volume  of  The  Earthly  Paradise.  The 
two  warlike  holsters  in  front  (in  which  Colo- 
nel Eliphalet  Bangs  used  to  carry  a  brace  of 
flintlock  pistols  now  reposing  in  the  Historical 
Museum  at  Rivermouth)  became  the  receptacle 
respectively  of  a  slender  flask  of  brandy  and  a 
Bologna  sausage  ;  for  young  Lynde  had  deter- 
mined to  sell  his  life  dearly  if  by  any  chance 
of  travel  he  came  to  close  quarters  with  famine. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  19 

A  broad-brimmed  Panama  hat,  a  suit  of  navy- 
blue  flannel,  and  a  pair  of  riding-boots  com- 
pleted his  equipment.  A  field-glass  in  a  leather 
case  was  swung  by  a  strap  over  his  shoulder, 
and  in  the  breast  pocket  of  his  blouse  he  car- 
ried a  small  compass  to  guide  him  on  his  jour- 
ney due  north. 

The  young  man's  costume  went  very  well 
with  his  frank,  refined  face,  and  twenty-three 
years.  A  dead-gold  mustache,  pointed  at  the 
ends  and  sweeping  at  a  level  right  and  left, 
like  a  swallow's  wings,  gave  him  something  of 
a  military  air ;  there  was  a  martial  directness, 
too,  in  the  glance  of  his  clear  gray  eyes,  un- 
dimmed  as  yet  with  looking  too  long  on  the 
world.  There  could  not  have  been  a  better 
figure  for  the  saddle  than  Lynde's,  —  slightly 
above  the  average  height,  straight  as  a  poplar, 
and  neither  too  spare  nor  too  heavy.  Now 
and  then,  as  he  passed  a  farm-house,  a  young 
girl  hanging  out  clothes  in  the  front  yard  — 
for  it  was  on  a  Monday  —  would  pause  with  a 


20  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

shapeless  snowdrift  in  her  hand  to  gaze  curi- 
ously at  the  apparition  of  a  gallant  young  horse- 
man riding  by.  It  often  happened  that  when 
he  had  passed,  she  would  slyly  steal  to  the 
red  gate  in  the  lichen-covered  stone-wall,  and 
follow  him  with  her  palm-shaded  eyes  down 
the  lonely  road  ;  and  it  as  frequently  happened 
that  he  would  glance  back  over  his  shoulder 
at  the  nut-brown  maid,  whose  closely  clinging, 
scant  drapery  gave  her  a  sculpturesque  grace 
to  which  her  unconsciousness  of  it  was  a  charm 
the  more. 

These  flashes  of  subtile  recognition  between 
youth  and  youth  —  these  sudden  mute  greet- 
ings and  farewells  —  reached  almost  the  dimen- 
sion of  incidents  in  that  first  day's  eventless 
ride.  Once  Lynde  halted  at  the  porch  of  a 
hip-roofed,  unpainted  house  with  green  paper 
shades  at  the  windows,  and  asked  for  a  cup 
of  milk,  which  was  brought  him  by  the  nut- 
brown  maid,  who  never  took  her  flattering  in- 
nocent eyes  off  the  young  man's  face  while  \\f 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  21 

drank,  —  sipping  him  as  he  sipped  the  milk ; 
and  young  Lynde  rode  away  feeling  as  if  some- 
thing had  really  happened. 

More  than  once  that  morning  he  drew  up 
by  the  roadside  to  listen  to  some  lyrical  robin 
on  an  apple-bough,  or  to  make  friends  with 
the  black-belted  Durham  cows  and  the  cream- 
colored  Alderneys,  who  came  solemnly  to  the 
pasture  wall  and  stared  at  him  with  big,  good- 
natured  faces.  A  row  of  them,  with  their  lazy 
eyes  and  pink  tongues  and  moist  india-rubber 
noses,  was  as  good  as  a  play. 

At  noon  that  day  our  adventureless  adven- 
turer had  reached  Bayley's  Four-Corners,  where 
he  found  provender  for  himself  and  Mary  at 
what  had  formerly  been  a  tavern,  in  the  naive 
stage-coach  epoch.  It  was  the  sole  house  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  was  occupied  by  the  ex- 
landlord,  one  Tobias  Sewell,  who  had  turned* 
farmer.  On  finishing  his  cigar  after  dinner, 
Lynde  put  the  saddle  on  Mary,  and  started 
forward  again.  It  is  hardly  correct  to  say  for- 


22  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

ward,  for  Mary  took  it  into  her  head  to  back 
out  of  Bayley's  Four-Corners,  a  feat  which  she 
performed  to  the  unspeakable  amusement  of 
Mr.  Sewell  and  a  quaint  old  gentleman,  named 
Jaffrey,  who  boarded  in  the  house. 

"  I  guess  that  must  be  a  suck-cuss  hoss," 
remarked  Mr.  Sewell,  resting  his  loosely  jointed 
figure  against  the  rail  fence  as  he  watched  his 
departing  guest. 

Mary  backed  to  the  ridge  of  the  hill  up 
which  the  turnpike  stretched  from  the  ancient 
tavern,  then  recovered  herself  and  went  on. 

"  I  never  saw  such  an  out-and-out  wilful 
old  girl  as  you  are,  Mary ! "  ejaculated  Lynde, 
scarlet  with  mortification.  "  I  begin  to  admire 
you." 

Perhaps  the  covert  reproach  touched  some 
finer  chord  of  Mary's  nature,  or  perhaps  Mary 
"had  done  her  day's  allowance  of  backing ;  what- 
ever the  case  was.  she  indulged  no  further 
caprice  that  afternoon  beyond  shying  vigorously 
at  a  heavily  loaded  tin-pedler's  wagon,  a  pro- 


THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA.  23 

ceeding  which  may  be  palliated  by  the  state- 
ment of  the  fact  that  many  of  Mary's  earlier 
years  were  passed  in  connection  with  a  similar 
establishment. 

The  afterglow  of  sunset  had  faded  out  be- 
hind the  serrated  line  of  hills,  and  black  shad- 
ows were  assembling,  like  conspirators,  in  the 
orchards  and  under  the  spreading  elms  by  the 
roadside,  when  Edward  Lynde  came  in  sight  of 
a  large  manufacturing  town,  which  presented  a 
sufficiently  bizarre  appearance  at  that  hour. 

Grouped  together  in  a  valley  were  five  or 
six  high,  irregular  buildings,  illuminated  from 
basement  to  roof,  each  with  a  monstrous  chim- 
ney from  which  issued  a  fan  of  party-colored 
flame.  On  one  long  low  structure,  with  a 
double  row  of  windows  gleaming  like  the  port- 
holes of  a  man-of-war  at  night,  was  a  squat 
round  tower  that  now  and  then  threw  open 
a  vast  valve  at  the  top,  and  belched  forth 
a  volume  of  amber  smoke,  which  cttrled  up- 
ward to  a  dizzy  height  and  spread  itself  out 


24  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

against  the  sky.  Lying  in  the  weird  light  of 
these  chimneys,  with  here  and  there  a  gable 
or  a  spire  suddenly  outlined  in  vivid  purple, 
the  huddled  town  beneath  seemed  like  an  out- 
post of  the  infernal  regions.  Lynde,  however, 
resolved  to  spend  the'  night  there  instead  of 
riding  on  farther  and  trusting  for  shelter  to 
some  farm-house  or  barn.  Ten  or  twelve  hours 
in  the  saddle  had  given  him  a  keen  appetite 
for  rest. 

Presently  the  roar  of  flues  and  furnaces,  and 
the  resonant  din  of  mighty  hammers  beating 
against  plates  of  iron,  fell  upon  his  ear ;  a  few 
minutes  later  he  rode  into  the  town,  not  know- 
ing and  not  caring  in  the  least  what  town  it 
was. 

All  this  had  quite  the  flavor  of  foreign  travel 
to  Lynde,  who  began  pondering  on  which  hotel 
he  should  bestow  his  patronage,  —  a  question 
that  sometimes  perplexes  the  tourist  on  arriving 
at  a  strange  city.  In  Lynde's  case  the  matter 
was  considerably  simplified  by  the  circumstance 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  25 

that  there  was  but  a  single  aristocratic  hotel 
in  the  place.  He  extracted  this  information 
from  a  small  boy,  begrimed  with  iron-dust,  and 
looking  as  if  he  had  just  been  cast  at  a  neigh- 
boring foundry,  who  kindly  acted  as  cicerone, 
and  conducted  the  tired  wayfarer  to  the  door- 
step of  The  Spread  Eagle,  under  one  of  whose 
wings  —  to  be  at  once  figurative  and  literal  — 
he  was  glad  to  nestle  for  the  night. 


26  THE   QUEEN    OF    SHEBA. 

n. 

IN  WHICH  THERE  IS  A  FAMILY  JAB. 

1ITHILE  Lyncle  is  enjoying  the  refreshing 
sleep  that  easily  overtook  him  after  sup- 
per, we  will  reveal  to  the  reader  so  much  of 
the  young  man's  private  history  as  may  be 
necessary  to  the  narrative.  In  order  to  do 
this,  the  author,  like  Deacon  Twombly's  mare, 
feels  it  indispensable  to  back  a  little. 

One  morning,  about  three  years  previous  to 
the  day  when  Edward  Lynde  set  forth  on  his 
aimless  pilgrimage,  Mr.  Jenness  Bowlsby,  the 
president  of  the  Nautilus  Bank  at  Ri vermouth, 
received  the  following  letter  from  his  wife's 
nephew,  Mr.  John  Flemming,  a  young  mer- 
chant in  New  York  :  — 

NEW  YORK,  May  28,  1869. 

MY  DEAR  UNCLE  :  In  the  course  of  a  few  days  a 
friend  of  mine,  Mr.  Edward  Lynde  of  this  city,  will 
call  upon  you  and  hand  you  a  note  of  introduction 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  27 

from  myself.  I  write  this  to  secure  for  him  in  ad- 
vance the  liking  and  interest  which  I  am  persuaded 
you  will  not  be  able  to  withhold  on  closer  acquaint- 
ance. I  have  been  intimate  with  Edward  Lynde  for 
twelve  years  or  more,  first  at  the  boarding-school  at 
Flatbush,  and  afterwards  at  college.  Though  several 
years  my  junior,  he  was  in  the  same  classes  with 
me,  and,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  generally  carried 
off  all  the  honors.  He  is  not  only  the  most  accom- 
plished young  fellow  I  know,  but  a  fellow  of  inex- 
haustible modesty  and  amiability,  and  I  think  it 
was  singularly  malicious  of  destiny  to  pick  him  out 
as  a  victim,  when  there  are  so  many  worthless  young 
men  (the  name  of  John  Flemming  will  instantly  oc- 
cur to  you)  who  deserve  nothing  better  than  rough 
treatment.  You  see,  I  am  taking  point-blank  aim  at 
your  sympathy. 

When  Lynde  was  seven  or  eight  years  old  he  had 
the  misfortune  to  lose  his  mother ;  his  father  was 
already  dead.  The  child's  nearest  relative  was  an 
uncle,  David  Lynde,  a  rich  merchant  of  New  York, 
a  bachelor,  and  a  character.  Old  Lynde  —  I  call 
him  old  Lynde  not  out  of  disrespect,  but  to  distin- 


28  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

guish  him  from  young  Lynde  —  was  at  that  period 
in  his  fiftieth  year,  a  gentleman  of  xinsullied  com- 
mercial reputation,  and  of  regular  if  somewhat  pecul- 
iar habits.  He  was  at  his  counting-room  precisely 
at  eight  in  the  morning,  and  was  the  last  to  leave 
in  the  evening,  working  as  many  hours  each  day  as 
he  had  done  in  those  first  years  when  he  entered  as 
office-boy  into  the  employment  of  Briggs  &  Living- 
stone, —  the  firm  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  now 
writing  was  Lynde,  Livingstone,  &  Co.  Mr.  David 
Lynde  lived  in  a  set  of  chambers  up  town,  and 
dined  at  his  club,  where  he  usually  passed  the  even- 
ings at  chess  with  some  brother  antediluvian.  A 
visit  to  the  theatre,  when  some  old  English  comedy 
or  some  new  English  ballet  happened  to  be  on  the 
boards,  was  the  periphery  of  his  dissipation.  What 
is  called  society  saw  nothing  of  him.  He  was  a 
rough,  breezy,  thick-set  old  gentleman,  betrothed  from 
his  birth  to  apoplexy,  enjoying  life  in  his  own 
secluded  manner,  and  insisting  on  having  everybody 
about  him  happy.  He  would  strangle  an  old  friend 
rather  than  not  have  him  happy.  A  characteristic 
story  is  told  of  a  quarrel  he  had  with  a  chum  of 


THE    QUEEN   OF    SHEBA.  29 

thirty  or  forty  years'  standing,  Eipley  Sturdevant, 
Sen.  Sturdevant  came  to  grief  in  the  financial  panic 
of  1857.  Lynde  held  a  mortgage  on  Sturdevant's 
house,  and  insisted  on  cancelling  it.  Sturdevant  re- 
fused to  accept  the  sacrifice.  They  both  were  fiery  old 
gentlemen,  arcades  ambo.  High  words  ensued.  What 
happened  never  definitely  transpired;  but  Sturdevant 
was  found  lying  across  the  office  lounge,  with  a  slight 
bruise  over  one  eyebrow  and  the  torn  mortgage  thrust 
into  his  shirt-bosom.  It  was  conjectured  that  Lynde 
had  actually  knocked  him  down  and  forced  the  mort- 
gage upon  him  ! 

In  short,  David  Lynde  was  warm-hearted  and  gen- 
erous to  the  verge  of  violence,  but  a  man  in  every 
way  unfitted  by  temperament,  experience,  and  mode 
of  life  to  undertake  the  guardianship  of  a  child.  To 
have  an  infant  dropped  into  his  arms  was  as  excel- 
lent an  imitation  of  a  calamity  as  could  well  happen 
to  him.  I  am  told  that  no  one  could  have  been 
more  sensible  of  this  than  David  Lynde  himself,  and 
that  there  was  something  extremely  touching  in  the 
alacrity  and  cheerfulness  with  which  he  assumed  the 
novel  responsibility. 


30  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

Immediately  after  the  funeral  —  Mrs.  Lynde  had 
resided  in  Philadelphia  —  the  uncle  brought  the  boy 
to  New  York.  It  was  impossible  to  make  a  perma- 
nent home  for  young  Lynde  in  bachelor  chambers, 
or  to  dine  him  at  the  club.  After  a  week  of  incon- 
venience and  wretchedness,  complicated  by  the  sinister 
suspicions  of  his  landlady,  David  Lynde  concluded  to 
send  the  orphan  to  boarding-school. 

It  was  at  Flatbush,  Long  Island,  that  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  the  forlorn  little  fellow.  His  cot 
was  next  to  mine  in  the  dormitory ;  we  became 
close  friends.  We  passed  our  examinations,  left  Flat- 
bush  at  the  same  time,  and  entered  college  together. 
In  the  mean  while  the  boy's  relations  with  his  guar- 
dian were  limited  to  a  weekly  exchange  of  letters, 
those  of  the  uncle  invariably  beginning  with  "Yours 
of  Saturday  duly  at  hand,"  and  ending  with  "En- 
closed please  find."  In  respect  to  pocket-money 
young  Lynde  was  a  prince.  My  friend  spent  the 
long  vacations  with  me  at  Newburgh,  running  down 
to  New  York  occasionally  to  pass  a  day  or  so  with 
the  uncle.  In  these  visits  their  intimacy  ripened. 
Old  Lynde  was  now  become  very  proud  of  his 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  31 

bright  young  charge,  giving  him  astonishing  dinners 
at  Delmonico's,  taking  him  to  Wallack's,  and  intro- 
ducing him  to  the  old  fossils  at  the  club  as  "my 
boy  Ned." 

It  was  at  the  beginning  of  Lynde's  last  term  at 
college  that  his  uncle  retired  from  business,  bought 
a  house  in  Madison  Avenue,  and  turned  it  into  a 
sort  of  palace  with  frescos  and  upholstery.  There 
was  a  library  for  my  boy  Ned,  a  smoking-room  in 
cherry-wood,  a  billiard-room  in  black-walnut,  a  din- 
ing-room in  oak  and  crimson,  —  in  brief,  the  beau- 
ideal  of  a  den  for  a  couple  of  bachelors.  By  Jove  ! 
it  was  like  a  club-house,  —  the  only  model  for  a 
home  of  which  poor  old  Lynde  had  any  conception. 
Six  months  before  Ned  was  graduated,  the  establish- 
ment was  in  systematic  running  order  under  the 
supervision  of  the  pearl  of  housekeepers.  Here  David 
Lynde  proposed  to  spend  the  rest  of  his  days  with 
his  nephew,  who  might,  for  form's  sake,  adopt  some 
genteel  profession ;  if  not,  well  and  good,  the  boy 
would  have  money. 

Now  just  as  Ned  was  carrying  off  the  first  prizes 
in  Greek  and  mathematics,  and  dreaming  of  the 


32  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

pleasant  life  he  was  to  lead  with  his  amiable  old 
benefactor,  what  does  that  amiable  old  benefactor  go 
and  do  but  marry  the  housekeeper  ! 

David  Lynde  knew  very  little  of  women  :  he  had 
not  spoken  to  above  a  dozen  in  his  whole  life;  did 
not  like  them,  in  fact;  had  a  mild  sort  of  contempt 
for  them,  as  persons  devoid  of  business  ability.  It 
was  in  the  course  of  nature  that  the  first  woman 
who  thought  it  worth  her  while  should  twist  him 
around  her  finger  like  a  remnant  of  ribbon.  "When 
Ned  came  out  of  college  he  found  himself  in  the 
arms  of  an  unlooked-for  aunt  who  naturally  hated 
him  at  sight. 

I  have  not  the  time  or  space,  my  dear  uncle,  to  give 
you  even  a  catalogue  of  the  miseries  that  foUowed 
on  the  heels  of  this  deplorable  marriage ;  besides, 
you  can  imagine  them.  Old  Lynde,  loving  both  his 
wife  and  his  nephew,  was  by  turns  violent  and  fee- 
ble ;  the  wife  cool,  cunning,  and  insidious,  —  a  Vivien 
of  forty  leading  Merlin  by  the  beard.  I  am  not 
prepared  to  contend  that  the  nephew  was  always  in 
the  right,  but  I  know  he  always  got  the  worst  of  it, 
which  amounts  to  about  the  same  thing.  At  the  end 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  33 

of  eight  or  ten  months  he  saw  that  the  position  was 
untenable,  packed  his  trunk  one  night,  and  quitted 
the  menage,  — •  the  menagerie,  as  he  calls  it. 

This  was  three  weeks  ago.  Having  a  small  property 
of  his  own,  some  fifteen  hundred  dollars  a  year,  I 
believe,  Lynde  at  first  thought  to  go  abroad.  It  was 
always  his  dream  to  go  abroad.  But  I  persuaded 
him  out  of  that,  seeing  how  perilous  it  would  be-  for 
a  young  fellow  of  his  inexperience  and  impressible 
disposition  to  go  rambling  alone  over  the  Continent. 
Paris  was  his  idea.  Paris  would  not  make  a  mouth- 
ful of  him.  I  have  talked  him  out  of  that,  I  repeat, 
and  have  succeeded  in  convincing  him  that  the  wisest 
course  for  him  to  pursue  is  to  go  to  some  pleasant 
town  or  village  within  hailing  distance  of  one  of  our 
larger  cities,  and  spend  the  summer  quietly.  I  even 
suggested  he  should  make  the  personal  acquaintance 
of  some  light  employment,  to  help  him  forget  the 
gorgeous  castle  of  cards  which  has  just  tumbled  down 
about  his  ears.  In  six  words,  I  have  sent  him  to 
Kivermouth. 

Now,  my  dear  uncle,  I  have  wasted  eight  pages  of 
paper  and  probably  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  your 


34  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

time,  if  you  do  not  see  that  I  am  begging  you  to  find 
a  position  for  Lynde  in  the  Nautilus  Bank.  After  a 
little  practice  he  would  make  a  skilful  accountant,  and 
the  question  of  salary  is,  as  you  see,  of  secondary 
importance.  Manage  to  retain  him  at  Rivermouth  if 
you  possibly  can.  David  Lynde  has  the  strongest 
affection  for  the  lad,  and  if  Vivien,  whose  name  is 
Elizabeth,  is  not  careful  how  she  drags  Merlin  around 
by  the  beard,  he  will  reassert  himself  in  some  unex- 
pected manner.  If  he  were  to  serve  her  as  he  is  sup- 
posed to  have  served  old  Sturdevant,  his  conduct 
would  be  charitably  criticised.  If  he  lives  a  year  he 
will  be  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  leave  the  bulk  of  his 
fortune  to  Ned.  They  have  not  quarrelled,  you  un- 
derstand; on  the  contrary,  Mr.  Lynde  was  anxious 
to  settle  an  allowance  of  five  thousand  a  year  on 
Ned,  but  Ned  would  not  accept  it.  "I  want  Uncle 
David's  love,"  says  Ned,  "and  I  have  it;  the  devil 
take  his  money." 

Here  you  have  all  the  points.  I  could  not  state 
them  more  succinctly  and  do  justice  to  each  of  the 
parties  interested.  The  most  unfortunate  party,  I 
take  it,  is  David  Lynde.  I  am  not  sure,  after  all, 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  35 

that  young  Lynde  is  so  much  to  he  pitied.  Perhap? 
that  cluh-house  would  not  have  worked  well  for  him 
if  it  had  worked  differently.  At  any  rate  he  now 
has  his  own  way  to  make,  and  I  commend  him.  to 
your  kindness,  if  I  have  not  exhausted  it. 
Your  affectionate  nephew, 

J.  FLEMMING. 

Five  or  six  days  after  this  letter  reached  Mr. 
Bowlsby,  Mr.  Edward  Lynde  presented  himself 
in  the  directors'  room  of  the  Nautilus  Bank. 
The  young  man's  bearing  confirmed  the  favora- 
ble impression  which  Mr.  Bowlsby  had  derived 
from  his  nephew's  letter,  and  though  there  was 
really  no  vacancy  in  the  bank  at  the  moment, 
Mr.  Bowlsby  lent  himself  to  the  illusion  that 
he  required  a  private  secretary.  A  few  weeks 
later  a  vacancy  occurred  unexpectedly,  that  of 
paying-teller,  —  a  position  in  which  Lynde  ac- 
quitted himself  with  so  much  quickness  and 
accuracy,  that  when  Mr.  Trefethen,  the  assistant 
cashier,  died  in  the  December  following,  Lynde 
was  promoted  to  his  desk. 


36  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

The  unruffled  existence  into  which  Edward 
Lynde  had  drifted  was  almost  the  reverse  of  the 
career  he  had  mapped  out  for  himself,  and  it  was 
a  matter  of  mild  astonishment  to  him  at  inter- 
vals that  he  was  not  discontented.  He  thought 
Rivermouth  one  of  the  most  charming  old  spots 
he  had  ever  seen  or  heard  of,  and  the  people 
the  most  hospitable.  The  story  of  his  little 
family  jar,  taking  deeper  colors  and  richer  or- 
namentation as  it  passed  from  hand  to  hand, 
made  him  at  once  a  social  success.  Mr.  Gold- 
stone,  one  of  the  leading  directors  of  the  bank, 
invited  Lynde  to  dinner, — few  persons  were  ever 
overburdened  with  invitations  to  dine  at  the 
Goldstones', —  and  the  door  of  many  a  refined 
home  turned  willingly  on  its  hinges  for  the 
young  man.  At  the  evening  parties,  that  win- 
ter, Edward  Lynde  was  considered  almost  as 
good  a  card  as  a  naval  officer.  Miss  Mildred 
Bowlsby,  then  the  reigning  belle,  was  ready  to 
flirt  with  him  to  the  brink  of  the  Episcopal  mar- 
riage  service,  and  beyond ;  but  the  phenomenal 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  37 

honeymoon  which  had  recently  quartered  in 
Lynde's  family  left  him  indisposed  to  take  any 
lunar  observations  on  his  own  account. 

With  his  salary  as  cashier,  Lynde's  income 
was  Vanderbiltish  for  a  young  man  in  River- 
mouth.  Unlike  his  great  contemporary,  he  did 
not  let  it  accumulate.  Once  a  month  he  wrote 
a  dutiful  letter  to  his  uncle  David,  who  never 
failed  to  answer  by  telegraph,  "  Yours  received. 
God  bless  you,  Edward."  This  whimsical  fash- 
ion of  reply  puzzled  young  Lynde  quite  as  much 
as  it  diverted  him  until  he  learned  (through  his 
friend,  John  Fie  naming)  that  his  aunt  Vivien 
had  extorted  from  the  old  gentleman  a  solemn 
promise  not  to  write  to  his  nephew. 

Lynde's  duties  at  the  bank  left  him  free  every 
afternoon  at  four  o'clock ;  his  work  and  his  leis- 
ure were  equally  pleasant.  In  summer  he  kept 
a  sail-boat  on  the  river,  and  in  winter  he  had 
the  range  of  a  rich  collection  of  books  con- 
nected with  an  antiquated  public  reading-room. 
Thus  very  happily,  if  very  quietly,  and  almost 


38  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

imperceptibly  the  months  rolled  round  to  that 
period  when  the  Nautilus  Bank  gave  Edward 
Lynde  a  three  weeks'  vacation,  and  he  set  forth, 
as  we  have  seen,  on  Deacon  Twombly's  mare,  in 
search  of  the  picturesque  and  the  peculiar,  if 
they  were  to  be  found  in  the  northern  part  of 
New  Hampshire. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  39 


m. 

IN    WHICH    MARY    TAKES    A    NEW    DEPARTURE. 

TT  was  still  dark  enough  the  next  morning  to 
-*-  allow  the  great  chimneys  to  show  off  their 
colored  fires  effectively,  when  Lynde  passed 

through  the   dingy  main   street   of  K and 

struck  into  a  road  which  led  to  the  hill  country. 
A  short  distance  beyond  the  town,  while  he  was 
turning  in  the  saddle  to  observe  the  singular 
effect  of  the  lurid  light  upon  the  landscape,  a 
freight-train  shot  obliquely  across  the  road  with- 
in five  rods  of  his  horse's  head,  the  engine  fling- 
ing great  flakes  of  fiery  spume  from  its  nostrils, 
and  shrieking  like  a  maniac  as  it.  plunged  into 
a  tunnel  through  a  spur  of  the  hills.  Mary 
went  sideways,  like  a  crab,  for  the  next  three 
quarters  of  a  mile. 

To  most  young  men  the  expedition  which  Ed- 


40  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

ward  Lynde  had  undertaken  would  have  seemed 
unattractive  and  monotonous  to  the  last  de- 
gree ;  but  Lynde's  somewhat  sedentary  habits 
had  made  him  familiar  with  his  own  company. 
When  one  is  young  and  well  read  and  amiable, 
there  is  really  no  better  company  than  one's 
self,  —  as  a  steady  thing.  We  are  in  a  desper- 
ate strait  indeed  if  we  chance  at  any  age  to  tire 
of  this  invisible  but  ever-present  comrade ;  for 
he  is  not  to  be  thrown  over  during  life.  Before 
now,  men  have  become  so  weary  of  him,  so 
bored  by  him,  that  they  have  attempted  to  es- 
cape, by  suicide;  but  it  is  a  question  if  death 
itself  altogether  rids  us  of  him. 

In  no  minute  of  the  twenty-four  hours  since 
Lynde  left  Rivermouth  had  he  felt  the  want 
of  other  companionship.  Mary,  with  her  pecul- 
iarities, the  roadside  sights  and  sounds,  the 
chubby  children  with  shining  morning  face,  on 
the  way  to  school,  the  woodland  solitudes,  the 
farmers  at  work  in  the  fields,  the  blue  jays  and 
the  robins  in  the  orchards,  the  blond  and  brown 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  41 

girls  at  the  cottage  doors,  his  own  buoyant,  un- 
reproachful  thoughts,  —  what  need  had  he  of 
company  ?  If  anything  could  have  added  to  his 
enjoyment  it  would  have  been  the  possibility  of 
being  waylaid  by  bandits,  or  set  upon  in  some 
desolate  pass  by  wild  animals.  But,  alas,  the 
nearest  approximation  to  a  bandit  that  fell  in 
his  way  was  some  shabby,  spiritless  tramp  who 
passed  by  on  the  further  side  without  lifting  an 
eyelid ;  and  as  for  savage  animals,  he  saw  noth- 
ing more  savage  than  a  monkish  chipmuck  here 
and  there,  who  disappeared  into  his  stone-wall 
convent  the  instant  he  laid  eyes  on  Lynde. 

Riding  along  those  lonely  New  England  roads, 
he  was  more  secure  than  if  he  had  been  loung- 
ing in  the  thronged  avenues  of  a  great  city. 
Certainly  he  had  dropped  on  an  age  and  into 
a  region  sterile  of  adventure.  He  felt  this, 
but  not  so  sensitively  as  to  let  it  detract  from 
the  serene  pleasure  he  found  in  it  all.  From 
the  happy  glow  of  his  mind  every  outward  ob- 
]ect  took  a  rosy  light ;  even  a  rustic  funeral, 


42  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

which  he  came  upon  at  a  cross-road  that  fore- 
noon, softened  itself  into  something  not  un- 
picturesque. 

For  three  days  after  quitting  K —  -  Lynde 
pushed  steadily  forward.  The  first  two  nights 
he  secured  lodgings  at  a  farm-house ;  on  the 
third  night  he  was  regarded  as  a  suspicious 
character,  and  obtained  reluctant  permission  to 
stow  himself  in  a  hay-loft,  where  he  was  so 
happy  at  roughing  it  and  being  uncomfortable 
that  he  could  scarcely  close  an  eye.  The  ama- 
teur outcast  lay  dreamily  watching  the  silver 
spears  of  moonlight  thrust  through  the  roof  of 
the  barn,  and  extracting  such  satisfaction  from 
his  cheerless  surroundings  as  would  have  as- 
tonished a  professional  tramp.  "  Poverty  and 
hardship  are  merely  ideas  after  all,"  said  Lynde 
to  himself  softly,  as  he  drifted  off  in  a  doze. 
Ah,  Master  Lynde,  playing  at  poverty  and  hard- 
ship is  one  thing;  but  if  the  reality  is  merely 
an  idea,  it  is  one  of  the  very  worst  ideas  in  the 
world. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  43 

The  young  man  awoke  before  sunrise  the 
next  morning,  and  started  onward  without  at- 
tempting to  negotiate  for  breakfast  with  his 
surly  host.  He  had  faith  that  some  sunburnt 
young  woman,  with  bowl  of  brown-bread  arid 
milk,  would  turn  up  farther  on ;  if  she  did 
not,  and  no  tavern  presented  itself,  there  were 
the  sausage  and  the  flask  of  eau-de-vie  still 
untouched  in  the  holsters. 

The  mountain  air  had  not  wholly  agreed 
with  Mary,  who  at  this  stage  of  the  journey 
inaugurated  a  series  of  abnormal  coughs,  each 
one  of  which  went  near  to  flinging  Lynde  out 
of  the  saddle. 

"  Mary,"  he  said,  after  a  particularly  narrow 
escape,  "  there  are  few  fine  accomplishments 
you  have  n't  got  except  a  spavin.  Perhaps 
you  've  got  that,  concealed  somewhere  about 
your  person." 

He  said  this  in  a  tone  of  airy  badinage 
which  Mary  seemed  to  appreciate ;  but  he 
gravely  wondered  what  he  could  do  with  her, 


44  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

and  how  he  should  replace  her,  if  she  fell  se- 
riously ill. 

For  the  last  two  days  farm-houses  and  culti- 
vated fields  had  been  growing  rarer  and  rarer, 
and  the  road  rougher  and  wilder.  At  times  it 
made  a  sudden  detour,  to  avoid  the  outcrop- 
ping of  a  monster  stratum  of  granite,  and  in 
places  became  so  narrow  that  the  rank  huckle- 
berry-bushes swept  the  mare's  flanks.  Lynde 
found  it  advisable  on  the  morning  in  question 
to  pick  his  way  carefully.  A  range  of  arid 
hills  rose  darkly  before  him,  stretching  east 
and  west  further  than  his  eye  could  follow, — 
rugged,  forlorn  hills  covered  with  a  thick  prickly 
undergrowth,  and  sentinelled  by  phantom-like 
pines.  There  were  gloomy,  rocky  gorges  on 
each  hand,  and  high-hanging  crags,  and  where 
the  vapor  was  drawn  aside  like  a  veil,  in  one 
place,  he  saw  two  or  three  peaks  with  what 
appeared  to  be  patches  of  snow  on  them. 
Perhaps  they  were  merely  patches  of  bleached 
rock. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  45 

Long  afterwards,  when  Edward  Lynde  was 
passing  through  the  valley  of  the  Arve,  on  the 
way  from  Geneva  to  Chamouni,  he  recollected 
this  bit  of  Switzerland  in  America,  and  it 
brought  an  odd,  perplexed  smile  to  his  lips. 

The  thousand  ghostly  shapes  of  mist  which 
had  thronged  the  heights,  shutting  in  the  pros- 
pect on  every  side,  had  now  vanished,  discov- 
ering as  wild  and  melancholy  a  spot  as  a 
romantic  heart  could  desire.  There  was  some- 
thing sinister  and  ironical  even  in  the  sun- 
shine that  lighted  up  these  bleak  hills.  The 
silver  waters  of  a  spring  —  whose  source  was 
hidden  somewhere  high  up  among  the  mossy 
bowlders  —  dripping  silently  from  ledge  to  ledge, 
had  the  pathos  of  tears.  The  deathly  stillness 
was  broken  only  by  the  dismal  caw  of  a  crow 
taking  abrupt  flight  from  a  blasted  pine.  Here 
and  there  a  birch  with  its  white  satin  skin 
glimmered  spectrally  among  the  sombre  foliage. 

The  inarticulate  sadness  of  the  place  brought 
a  momentary  feeling  of  depression  to  Lynde, 


46  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

who  was  not  usually  given  to  moods  except  of 
the  lighter  sort.  He  touched  Mary  sharply 
with  the  spurs  and  cantered  up  the  steep. 

He  had  nearly  gained  the  summit  of  the  hill 
when  he  felt  the  saddle  slipping ;  the  girth 
had  unbuckled  or  broken.  As  he  dismounted, 
the  saddle  came  off  with  him,  his  foot  still  in 
the  stirrup.  The  mare  shied,  and  the  rein 
slipped  from  his  fingers ;  he  clutched  at  it,  but 
Mary  gave  a  vicious  toss  of  the  head,  wheeled 
about,  and  began  trotting  down  the  declivity. 
Her  trot  at  once  broke  into  a  gallop,  and  the 
gallop  into  a  full  run,  —  a  full  run  for  Mary. 
At  the  foot  of  the  hill  she  stumbled,  fell,  rolled 
over,  gathered  herself  up,  and  started  off  again 
at  increased  speed.  The  road  was  perfectly 
straight  for  a  mile  or  two.  The  horse  was 
already  a  small  yellow  patch  in  the  distance. 
She  was  evidently  on  her  way  back  to  River- 
mouth  !  Lynde  watched  her  until  she  was  noth- 
ing but  a  speck  against  the  gray  road,  then  he 
turned  and  cast  a  rueful  glance  on  the  saddle, 


THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA.  47 

which  suddenly  took  to  itself  a  satirical  aspect, 
as  it  lay  sprawling  on  the  ground  at  his  feet. 
He  had  been  wanting  something  to  happen, 
and  something  had  happened.  He  was  un- 
horsed and  alone  in  the  heart  of  the  hill  coun- 
try, —  alone  in  a  strange  and,  it  seemed  to 
Lynde  as  he  looked  about  him,  uninhabited 
region. 


48  THE   QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 


IV. 

THE    ODD    ADVENTURE    WHICH    BEFELL    YOUNG 
LYNDE    IN    THE    HILL    COUNTRY. 

TT  had  all  happened  so  suddenly  that  one  or 
-*-  two  minutes  passed  before  Edward  Lynde 
took  in  the  full  enormity  of  Mary's  desertion. 
A  dim  smile  was  still  hovering  about  his  lips 
when  the  yellow  speck  that  was  Mary  faded  into 
the  gray  distance ;  then  his  countenance  fell. 
There  was  no  sign  of  mortal  habitation  visible 
from  the  hillside  where  he  stood ;  the  farm  at 
which  he  had  spent  the  night  was  five  miles 
away;  his  stiff  riding-boots  were  ill-adapted  to 
pedestrianism.  The  idea  of  lugging  that  heavy 
saddle  five  miles  over  a  mountain  road  caused 
him  to  knit  his  brows  and  look  very  serious  in- 
deed. As  he  gave  the  saddle  an  impatient  kick, 
his  eyes  rested  on  the  Bologna  sausage,  one 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  49 

end  of  which  protruded  from  the  holster ;  then 
there  came  over  him  a  poignant  recollection  of 
his  lenten  supper  of  the  night  before  and  his 
no  breakfast  at  all  of  -that  morning.  He  seated 
himself  on  the  saddle,  unwrapped  the  sausage, 
and  proceeded  to  cut  from  it  two  or  three  thin 
slices. 

"It  might  have  been  much  worse,"  he  re- 
flected, as  he  picked  off  with  his  penknife  the 
bits  of  silver  foil  which  adhered  to  the  skin  of 
the  sausage;  "if  Mary  had  decamped  with  the 
commissary  stores,  that  would  have  been  awk- 
ward." Lynde  devoured  the  small  pieces  of 
pressed  meat  with  an  appetite  born  of  his  long 
fast  and  the  bracing  upland  air. 

"Talk  about  pate  de  foie  gras!"  he  exclaimed, 
with  a  sweep  of  his  arm,  as  if  he  were  disdain- 
fully waving  back  a  menial  bearing  a  tray  of 
Strasbourg  pate's ;  "if  I  live  to  return  to  River- 
mouth  I  will  have  Bologna  sausage  three  tunes 
a  day  for  the  rest  of  my  life." 

A  cup  of  the  ice-cold  water  which  bubbled  up 


50  THE   QUEEN   OF  SHEBA. 

from  a  boss  of  cresses  by  the  roadside  completed 
his  Spartan  breakfast.  His  next  step  was  to 
examine  his  surroundings.  "From  the  top  of 
this  hill,"  said  Lynde,  "  I  shall  probably  be  able 
to  see  where  I  am,  if  that  will  be  any  comfort 
to  me." 

It  was  only  fifty  or  sixty  rods  to  the  crown 
of  the  hill,  where  the  road,  viewed  from  below, 
seemed  abruptly  to  come  to  an  end  against  the 
sky.  On  gaining  the  summit,  Lynde  gave  an 
involuntary  exclamation  of  surprise  and  delight. 
At  his  feet  in  the  valley  below,  in  a  fertile  plain 
walled  in  on  all  sides  by  the  emerald  slopes, 
lay  the  loveliest  village  that  ever  was  seen. 
Though  the  road  by  which  he  had  approached 
the  eminence  had  been  narrow  and  steep,  here 
it  widened  and  descended  by  gentle  gradations 
into  the  valley,  where  it  became  the  main  street 
of  the  village,  —  a  congregation  of  two  or  pos- 
sibly three  hundred  houses,  mostly  cottages 
with  gambrel  and  lean-to  roofs.  At  the  left 
of  the  village,  and  about  an  eighth  of  a  mile 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  51 

distant,  was  an  imposing  red  brick  building  with 
wings  and  a  pair  of  octagon  towers.  It  stood 
in  a  forest  of  pines  and  maples,  and  appeared 
to  be  enclosed  by  a  high  wall  of  masonry.  It 
was  too  pretentious  for  an  almshouse,  too  ele- 
gant for  a  prison ;  it  was  as  evidently  not  a 
school-house,  and  it  could  not  be  an  arsenal. 
Lynde  puzzled  over  it  a  moment,  and  then 
returned  for  his  saddle,  which  he  slung  across 
his  back,  holding  it  by  a  stirrup-strap  brought 
over  either  shoulder. 

"  If  Mary  has  got  a  conscience,"  muttered 
Lynde,  "  it  would  prick  her  if  she  could  see  me 
now.  I  must  be  an  affecting  spectacle.  In  the 
village  they  won't  know  whether  I  am  the  up- 
per or  the  lower  half  of  a  centaur.  They  won't 
know  whether  to  rub  me  down  and  give  me  a 
measure  of  oats,  or  to  ask  me  in  to  breakfast." 

The  saddle  with  its  trappings  probably  weighed 
forty  pounds,  and  Lynde  was  glad  before  he  had 
accomplished  a  third  of  the  way  to  the  village 
to  set  down  his  burden  and  rest  awhile.  On 


52  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

each  side  of  him  now  were  cornfields,  and 
'sloping  orchards  peopled  with  those  grotesque, 
human-like  apple-trees  which  seem  twisted  and 
cramped  by  a  pain  possibly  caught  from  their 
own  acidulous  fruit./  The  cultivated  land  ter- 
minated only  where  the  village  began.  It  was 
not  so  much  a  village  as  a  garden,  —  a  garden 
crowded  with  flowers  of  that  bright  metallic 
tint  which  distinguishes  the  flora  of  northern 
climes.  Through  the  centre  of  this  Eden  ran 
the  wide  main  street,  fringed  with  poplars  and 
elms  and  chestnuts.  No  polluting  brewery  or 
smoky  factory, .  with  its  hideous  architecture, 
marred  the  idyllic  beauty  of  the  miniature  town, 
—for  everything  which  is  not  a  city  is  a  town 
in  New  England.  The  population  obviously  con- 
sisted of  well-to-do  persons,  with  outlying  stock- 
farms  or  cranberry  meadows,  and  funds  snugly 
invested  in  ships  and  railroads. 

In  out-of-the-way  places  like  this  is  preserved 
the  greater  part  of  what  we  have  left  of  the 
hard  shrewd  sense  and  the  simpler  manner  of 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  53 

those  homespun  old  worthies  who  planted  the 
seed  of  the  Republic.  In  our  great  cities  we 
are  cosmopolitans  ;  but  here  we  are  Americans 
of  the  primitive  type,  or  as  nearly  as  may  be. 
It  was  unimportant  settlements  like  the  one 
we  are  describing  that  sent  their  quota  of  stout 
hearts  and  flint-lock  muskets  to  the  trenches 
on  Bunker  Hill.  Here,  too,  the  valorous  spirit 
which  had  been  slumbering  on  its  arm  for  half 
a  century  started  up  at  the  first  shot  fired 
against  Fort  Sumter.  Over  the  chimney-place 
of  more  than  one  cottage  in  such  secludQd 
villages  hangs  an  infantry  or  a  cavalry  sword 
in  its  dinted  sheath,  looked  at  to-day  by  wife 
or  mother  with  the  tenderly  proud  smile  that 
has  mercifully  taken  the  place  of  tears. 

Beyond  the  town,  on  the  hillside  which  Ed- 
ward Lynde  had  just  got  within  the  focus  of 
his  field-glass,  was  the  inevitable  cemetery.  On 
a  grave  here  and  there  a  tiny  flag  waved  in 
the  indolent  June  breeze.  If  Lynde  had  been 
standing  by  the  head-stones,  he  could  have 


54  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

read  among  the  inscriptions  such  unlocal  words 
as  Malvern  Hill,  Andersonville,  Ball's  Bluff, 
and  Gettysburg,  and  might  have  seen  the  with- 
ered Decoration  Day  wreaths  which  had  been 
fresh  the  month  before. 

Lynde  brought  his  glass  to  bear  on  the  red 
brick  edifice  mentioned,  and  fell  to  pondering 
it  again. 

"  I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  don't  think  it  's  a  nun- 
nery," he  said.  By  and  by  he  let  his  gaze 
wander  back  to  the  town,  in  which  he  detected 
an  appearance  of  liveliness  and  bustle  not  usual 
in  New  England  villages,  large  or  small.  The 
main  street  was  dotted  with  groups  of  men  and 
women;  and  isolated  figures,  to  which  perhaps 
the  distance  lent  a  kind  of  uncanny  aspect, 
were  to  be  seen  hurrying  hither  and  thither. 

"  It  must  be  some  local  celebration,"  thought 
Lynde.  "  Rural  oratory  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  That  will  be  capital !  " 

He  had  returned  the  glass  to  its  leather  case, 
and  was  settling  it  well  on  his  hip,  when  he 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  55 

saw  a  man  approaching.  It  was  a  heavily 
built  old  gentleman  in  a  suit  of  black  alpaca, 
somewhat  frayed  and  baggy  at  the  knees,  but 
still  respectable.  He  carried  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  fanning  himself  with  it  from  time  to 
time,  as  if  overcome  by  heat  and  the  fatigue 
of  walking.  A  profusion  of  snow-white  hair, 
parted  in  the  middle,  swept  down  on  either 
side  of  a  face  remarkable  —  if  it  was  remark- 
able for  anything  —  for  its  benign  and  simple 
expression.  There  was  a  far-off,  indescribable 
something  about  this  person,  as  though  he  had 
existed  long  ago  and  once  had  a  meaning,  but 
was  now  become  an  obsolete  word  in  the  human 
dictionary.  His  wide  placid  brows  and  the 
double  chin  which  asserted  itself  above  his  high 
neckcloth  gave  him  a  curious  resemblance  to 
portraits  of  Dr.  Franklin. 

"  The  country  parson,"  said  Lynde  to  him- 
self. "  Venerable  and  lovely  old  character. 
I  '11  speak  to  him." 

The   old   gentleman,   with   his  head   slightly 


56  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

thrown  back,  had  his  eyes  fixed  intently  on 
some  object  in  the  sky,  and  was  on  the  point 
of  passing  Lynde  without  observing  him,  when 
the  young  man  politely  lifted  his  hat,  and  said, 
"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  will  you  be  kind 
enough  to  tell  me  the  name  of  the  town  yon- 
der ?  " 

The  old  gentleman  slowly  brought  his  eyes 
down  from  the  sky,  fixed  them  vacantly  upon 
Lynde,  and  made  no  response.  Presuming  him 
to  be  deaf,  Lynde  repeated  his  question  in  a 
key  adapted  to  the  exigency.  Without  a  change 
in  his  mild,  benevolent  expression,  and  in  a 
voice  whose  modulations  were  singularly  musi- 
cal, the  old  gentleman  exclaimed,  "  Go  to  the 
devil !  "  and  passed  on. 

The  rejoinder  was  so  unexpected,  the  words 
themselves  were  so  brusque,  while  the  utter- 
ance was  so  gentle  and  melodious,  that  Lynde 
refused  to  credit  his  ears.  Could  he  have  heard 
aright?  Before  he  recovered  from  his  surprise 
the  gentleman  in  black  was  far  up  the  slope, 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  57 

his  gaze  again  riveted  on  some  remote  point  in 
the  zenith. 

"  It  was  n't  the  country  parson  after  all," 
said  Lynde,  with  a  laugh  ;  "it  was  the  village 
toper.  He  's  an  early  bird  —  I  '11  say  that  for 
him  —  to  have  secured  his  intoxicating  worm 
at  this  hour  of  the  morning." 

Lynde  picked  up  the  saddle  and  resumed  his 
march  on  the  town  in  the  happy  valley.  He 
had  proceeded  only  a  little  way  when  he  per- 
ceived another  figure  advancing  towards  him, 
—  a  figure  not  less  striking  than  that  of  the 
archaic  gentleman,  but  quite  different.  This 
was  a  young  girl,  of  perhaps  seventeen,  in  a 
flowing  dress  of  some  soft  white  stuff,  gathered 
at  the  waist  by  a  broad  red  ribbon.  She  was 
without  hat  or  shawl,  and  wore  her  hair,  which 
was  very  long  and  very  black,  hanging  loosely 
down  her  shoulders,  in  exaggeration  of  a  style 
of  coiffure  that  afterwards  came  into  fashion. 
She  was  moving  slowly  and  in  the  manner  of 
a  person  not  accustomed  to  walking.  She  was 


58  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

a  lady,  —  Lynde  saw  that  at  a  glance,  —  prob- 
ably some  city-bred  bird  of  passage,  resting  for 
the  summer  in  this  vale  of  health.  His  youth- 
ful vanity  took  alarm  as  he  reflected  what  a 
comical  picture  he  must  present  with  that  old 
saddle  on  his  back.  He  would  have  dumped 
it  into  the  barberry-bushes  if  he  could  have 
done  so  unobserved ;  but  it  was  now  too  late. 
On  perceiving  Lynde,  the  girl  arrested  her 
steps  a  moment  irresolutely,  and  then  came 
directly  towards  him.  As  she  drew  nearer 
Lynde  was  conscious  of  being  dazzled  by  a  pair 
of  heavily  fringed  black  eyes,  large  and  lus- 
trous, set  in  an  oval  face  of  exquisite  pallor. 
The  girl  held  a  dandelion  in  one  hand,  twirl- 
ing it  by  the  end  of  its  long,  snake-like  stem 
as  she  approached.  She  was  close  upon  him 
now;  for  an  instant  he  caught  the  wind  of 
the  flower  as  it  swiftly  described  a  circle  with- 
in an  inch  of  his  cheek.  The  girl  paused  in 
front  of  him,  and  drawing  herself  up  to  her 
full  height  said  haughtily, 


THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA.  59 

"  I  am  the  Queen  of  Sheba." 

Then  she  glided  by  him  with  a  quickened 
pace  and  a  suddenly  timid  air.  Lynde  was 
longer  recovering  himself,  this  time.  He  stood 
rooted  to  the  ground,  stupidly  watching  the 
retreating  gracious  form  of  the  girl,  who  half 
turned  once  and  looked  back  at  him.  Then 
she  vanished  over  the  ridge  of  the  hill,  as  the 
old  gentleman  had  done.  Was  she  following 
him  ?  Was  there  any  connection  between  those 
two?  Perhaps  he  was  the  village  clergyman. 
Could  this  be  his  daughter  ?  What  an  uncon- 
ventional costume  for  a  young  lady  to  prome- 
nade in,  —  for  she  was  a  lady  down  to  her 
finger-nails  !  And  what  an  odd  salutation ! 

"  The  Queen  of  Sheba  !  "  he  repeated,  won- 
deringly.  "  What  could  she  mean  by  that  ? 
She  took  me  for  some  country  bumpkin,  with 
this  confounded  saddle,  and  was  laughing  at  me. 
I  never  saw  a  girl  at  once  so — so  audacious 
and  modest,  or  so  lovely.  I  did  n't  know  there 
was  anything-  on  earth  so  lovely  as  that  girl." 


60  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

He  had  caught  only  an  instantaneous  glimpse 
of  her  face,  but  he  had  seen  it  with  strange 
distinctness,  as  one  sees  an  object  by  a  flash 
of  lightning ;  and  he  still  saw  it,  as  one  seems 
still  to  see  the  object  in  the  after-darkness. 
Every  line  of  the  features  lived  in  his  eyes, 
even  an  almost  indistinguishable  scar  there  was 
on  the  girl's  right  cheek  near  the  temple.  It 
was  not  a  flaw,  that  faint  scar ;  it  seemed 
somehow  to  heighten  her  loveliness,  as  an  ac- 
cent over  a  word  sometimes  gives  it  one  knows 
not  what  of  piquancy. 

"  Evidently  she  lives  in  the  town  or  in  the 
neighborhood.  Shall  I  meet  her  again,  I  won- 
der ?  I  will  stay  here  a  week  or  a  month  if  — 
What  nonsense!  I  must  have  distinguished 
myself,  staring  at  her  like  a  gawk.  When  she 
said  she  was  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  I  ought  in- 
stantly to  have  replied  —  what  in  the  deuce  is 
\t  I  ought  to  have  replied?  How  can  a  man 
be  witty  with  a  ton  of  sole-leather  pressing  on 
liis  spine ! " 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  61 

Edward  Lynde,  with  the  girl  and  her  mock- 
ing words  in  his  mind,  and  busying  himself 
with  all  the  clever  things  he  might  have  said 
and  did  not  say,  mechanically  traversed  the  re- 
maining distance  to  the  village. 

The  street  which  had  seemed  thronged  when 
he  viewed  it  from  the  slope  of  the  hill  was 
deserted ;  at  the  farther  end  he  saw  two  or 
three  persons  hurrying  along,  but  there  were  no 
indications  whatever  of  the  festival  he  had  con- 
jectured. Indeed,  the  town  presented  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  place  smitten  by  a  pestilence.  The 
blinds  of  the  lower  casements  of  all  the  houses 
were  closed ;  he  would  have  supposed  them  un- 
occupied if  he  had  not  caught  sight  of  a  face 
pressed  against  the  glass  of  an  upper  window 
here  and  there.  He  thought  it  singular  that 
these  faces  instantly  withdrew  when  he  looked 
up.  Once  or  twice  he  fancied  he  heard  a  dis- 
tant laugh,  and  the  sound  of  voices  singing 
drunkenly  somewhere  in  the  open  air. 

Some  distance  up  the  street  a  tall  liberty-pole 


62  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

sustaining  a  swinging  sign  announced  a  tavern. 
Lynde  hastened  thither ;  but  the  tavern,  like  the 
private  houses,  appeared  tenantless ;  the  massive 
pine  window-shutters  were  barred  and  bolted. 
Lynde  mounted  the  three  or  four  low  steps  lead- 
ing to  the  piazza,  and  tried  the  front  door,  which 
was  locked.  With  the  saddle  still  on  his  shoul- 
ders, he  stepped  into  the  middle  of  the  street 
to  reconnoitre  the  premises.  A  man  and  two 
women  suddenly  showed  themselves  at  an  open 
window  in  the  second  story.  Lynde  was  about 
to  address  them  when  the  man  cried  out:  — 

"  0,  you  're  a  horse,  I  suppose.  Well,  there 
is  n't  any  oats  for  you  here.  You  had  better 
trot  on ! " 

Lynde  did  not  relish  this  pleasantry  ;  it  struck 
him  as  rather  insolent;  but  he  curbed  his  irri- 
tation, and  inquired  as  politely  as  he  could  if 
a,  horse  or  any  kind  of  vehicle  could  be  hired  in 
the  village. 

The  three  persons  in  the  window  nodded  to 
each  other  significantly,  and  began  smiling  in 


THE  QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  63 

a  constrained  manner,  as  if  there  were  some- 
thing quite  preposterous  in  the  inquiry.  The 
man,  a  corpulent,  red-faced  person,  seemed  on 
the  point  of  suffocating  with  merriment. 

"  Is  this  a  public  house  ?  "  demanded  Lynde, 
severely. 

"That's  as  may  be,"  answered  the  man,  re- 
covering his  breath,  and  becoming  grave. 

"Are  you  the  proprietor?" 

"That's  jest  what  I  am." 

"Then  I  require  of  you  the  accommodation 
which  is  the  right  of  every  traveller.  Your 
license  does  not  permit  you  to  turn  any  re- 
spectable stranger  from  your  door." 

"  Now,  my  advice  to  you,"  said  the  man,  step- 
ping back  from  the  window,  "  my  advice  to  you 
is  to  trot.  You  can't  get  in  here.  If  you  try 
to,  I  '11  pepper  you  as  sure  as  you  live,  though 
I  wouldn't  like  to  do  it.  So  trot  right  along !  " 

The  man  had  a  gun  in  his  hands ;  he  clutched 
it  nervously  by  the  stock ;  his  countenance 
worked  strangely,  and  his  small,  greenish  eyes 


G4  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

had  a  terrified,  defiant  expression.  Indisputa- 
bly, the  tavern-keeper  looked  upon  Lynde  as  a 
dangerous  person,  and  was  ready  to  fire  upon 
him  if  he  persisted  in  his  demands. 

"My  friend,"  said  Lynde  through  his  set 
teeth,  "  if  I  had  you  down  here  I  'd  give  you  a 
short  lesson  in  manners." 

"  I  dare  say !  I  dare  say ! "  cried  the  man, 
flourishing  the  shot-gun  excitedly. 

Lynde  turned  away  disgusted  and  indignant ; 
but  his  indignation  was  neutralized  by  his  as- 
tonishment at  this  incomprehensible  brutality. 
He  had  no  resource  but  to  apply  to  some  pri- 
vate house  and  state  his  predicament.  As  that 
luckless  saddle  had  excited  the  derision  of  the 
girl,  and  drawn  down  on  him  the  contumely  of 
the  tavern-keeper,  he  looked  around  for  some 
safe  spot  in  which  to  deposit  it  before  it  brought 
him  into  further  disgrace.  His  linen  and  all 
his  worldly  possessions,  except  his  money,  which 
he  carried  on  his  person,  were  in  the  valise ;  he 
could  not  afford  to  lose  that. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  65 

The  sun  was  high  by  this  time,  and  the  heat 
would  have  been  intolerable  if  it  had  not  been 
for  a  merciful  breeze  which  swept  down  from  the 
cooler  atmosphere  of  the  hills.  Lynde  wasted 
half  an  hour  or  more  seeking  a  hiding-place  for 
the  saddle.  It  had  grown  a  grievous  burden  to 
him ;  at  every  step  it  added  a  pound  to  its  dead 
weight.  He  saw  no  way  of  relieving  himself 
of  it.  There  it  was  perched  upon  his  shoulders, 
like  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea  on  the  back  of  Sind- 
bad  the  Sailor.  In  sheer  despair  Lynde  flung 
down  his  load  on  the  curbstone  at  a  corner 
formed  by  a  narrow  street  diagonally  crossing 
the  main  thoroughfare,  which  he  had  not  quitted. 
He  drew  out  his  handkerchief  and  wiped  the 
heavy  drops  of  perspiration  from  his  brows.  At 
that  moment  he  was  aware  of  the  presence  of  a 
tall,  cadaverous  man  of  about  forty,  who  was 
so  painfully  pinched  and  emaciated  that  a  sym- 
pathetic shiver  ran  over  Lynde  as  he  glanced 
at  him.  He  was  as  thin  as  an  exclamation- 
point.  It  seemed  to  Lynde  that  the  man  must 


66  THE  QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 

be  perishing  with  cold  even  in  that  burning  June 
sunshine.  It  was  not  a  man,  but  a  skeleton. 

"  Good  heavens,  sir!"  cried  Lynde.  "Tell  me 
where  I  am !  What  is  the  name  of  this  town  ?  " 

"  Constantinople." 

"  Constan  —  " 

"  —  tinople,"  added  the  man  briskly.  "A 
stranger  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lynde  abstractedly.  He  was 
busy  running  over  an  imaginary  map  of  the 
State  of  New  Hampshire  in  search  of  Constan- 
tinople. 

"  Good !  "  exclaimed  the  anatomy,  rustling  his 
dry  palms  together,  "  I  '11  employ  you." 

"  You  '11  employ  me  ?     I  like  that !  " 

"  Certainly.     I  'm  a  ship-builder." 

"  I  did  n't  know  they  built  vessels  a  hundred 
miles  from  the  coast,"  said  Lynde. 

"  I  am  building  a  ship,  —  don't  say  I  'm  not !  " 

"  Of  course  I  know  nothing  about  it." 

"A  marble  ship." 

"A  ship  to  carry  marble?" 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  67 

"  No,  a  ship  made  of  marble ;  a  passenger 
ship.  We  have  ships  of  iron,  why  not  of  mar- 
ble ? "  he  asked  fiercely. 

"  0,  the  fellow  is  mad ! "  said  Lynde  to  him- 
self, "  as  mad  as  a  loon ;  everybody  here  is 
mad,  or  I  've  lost  my  senses.  So  you  are  build- 
ing a  marble  ship  ? "  he  added  aloud,  good- 
naturedly.  "  When  it  is  finished  I  trust  you  will 
get  all  the  inhabitants  of  this  town  into  it,  and 
put  to  sea  at  once." 

"  Then  you  '11  help  me !  "  cried  the  man  en- 
thusiastically, with  his  eyes  gleaming  in  their 
sunken  sockets.  More  than  ever  he  looked  like 
a  specimen  escaped  from  some  anatomical  mu- 
seum. 

"I  do  not  believe  I  c.an  be  of  much  assist- 
ance," answered  Lynde,  laughing.  "  I  have 
had  so  little  experience  in  constructing  marble 
vessels,  you  see.  I  fear  my  early  education 
has  been  fearfully  neglected.  By  the  by,"  con- 
tinued the  young  man,  who  was  vaguely  diverted 
by  his  growing  interest  in  the  monomaniac,  "how 


68  THE   QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 

do  you  propose  to  move  your  ship  to  the  sea- 
board?" 

"In  the  simplest  manner  —  a  double  railway 
track  —  twenty-four  engines  —  twelve  engines  on 
each  side  to  support  the  hull." 

"  That  would  be  a  simple  way." 

Edward  Lynde  laughed  again,  but  not  heart- 
ily. He  felt  that  this  marble  ship  was  a  con- 
ception of  high  humor  and  was  not  without  its 
pathetic  element.  The  whimsicality  of  the  idea 
amused  him,  but  the  sad  earnestness  of  the 
nervous,  unstrung  visionary  at  his  side  moved 
his  compassion. 

"  Dear  me,"  he  mused,  "  may  be  all  of  us  are 
more  or  less  engaged  in  planning  a  marble  ship, 
and  perhaps  the  happiest  are  those  who,  like 
this  poor  soul,  never  awake  from  their  delu- 
sion. Matrimony  was  Uncle  David's  marble 
ship,  —  he  launched  his !  Have  I  one  on  the 
ways,  I  wonder  ?  " 

Lynde  broke  with  a  shock  from  his  brief  ab- 
straction. His  companion  had  disappeared,  and 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  69 

with  him  the  saddle  and  valise.  Lynde  threw 
a  hasty  glance  up  the  street,  and  started  in 
pursuit  of  the  naval-architect,  who  was  running 
with  incredible  swiftness  and  bearing  the  sad- 
dle on  his  head  with  as  much  ease  as  if  it  had 
been  a  feather. 

The  distance  between  the  two  men,  some 
sixty  or  seventy  yards,  was  not  the  disadvan- 
tage that  made  pursuit  seem  hopeless.  Lynde 
had  eaten  almost  nothing  since  the  previous 
noon  ;  he  had  been  carrying  that  cumbersome 
saddle  for  the  last  two  or  three  hours ;  he  was 
out  of  breath,  and  it  was  impossible  to  do 
much  running  in  his  heavy  riding-boots.  The 
other  man,  on  the  contrary,  appeared  perfectly 
fresh ;  he  wore  light  shoes,  and  had  not  a  su- 
perfluous ounce  of  flesh  to  carry.  He  was  all 
bone  and  sinew ;  the  saddle  resting  upon  his 
head  was  hardly  an  impediment  to  him.  Lynde, 
however,  was  not  going  to  be  vanquished 
without  a  struggle ;  though  he  recognized  the 
futility  of  pursuit,  he  pushed  on  doggedly.  A 


70  THE   QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 

certain  tenacious  quality  in  the  young  man  im- 
peratively demanded  this  of  him. 

"The  rascal  has  made  off  with  my  dinner," 
he  muttered  between  his  clinched  teeth.  "  That 
completes  the  ruin  Mary  began.  If  I  should 
happen  to  catch  up  with  him,  I  trust  I  shal. 
have  the  moral  strength  not  to  knock  his  head 
off  —  his  skull  off ;  it  is  n't  a  head." 

Lynde's  sole  hope  of  overtaking  him,  and  it 
was  a  very  slender  hope,  was  based  on  the  pos- 
sibility that  the  man  might  fall  and  disable 
himself ;  but  he  seemed  to  have  the  sure-footed- 
ness  as  well  as  the  lightness  of  a  deer.  When 
Lynde  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  village,  on 
the  road  by  which  he  had  entered,  the  agile 
ship-builder  was  more  than  half-way  up  the 
hill.  Lynde  made  a  fresh  spurt  here,  and  lost 
his  hat;  but  he  had  no  time  to  turn  back  for 
it.  Every  instant  widened  the  space  between 
the  two  runners,  as  one  of  them  noticed  with 
disgust.  At  the  top  of  the  ascent  the  man 
halted  a  moment  to  take  breath,  and  then  dis- 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  71 

appeared  behind  the  ridge.  He  was  on  the 
down  grade  now,  and  of  course  gaining  at  each 
stride  on  his  pursuer,  who  was  still  toiling  up- 
ward. Lynde  did  not  slacken  his  pace,  how- 
ever ;  he  had  got  what  runners  call  their  second 
wind.  With  lips  set,  elbows  pressed  against 
his  sides,  and  head  thrown  forward,  he  made 
excellent  time  to  the  brow  of  the  hill,  where 
he  suddenly  discovered  himself  in  the  midst  of 
a  crowd  of  men  and  horses. 

For  several  seconds  Lynde  was  so  dazed  and 
embarrassed  that  he  saw  nothing ;  then  his  eyes 
fell  upon  the  girl  with  the  long  hair  and  the 
white  gown.  She  was  seated  side  wise  on  a 
horse  without  saddle,  and  the  horse  was  Mary. 
A  strapping  fellow  was  holding  the  animal  by 
the  head-stall. 

"  By  Jove  !  "  cried  Lynde,  springing  forward 
joyfully,  "  that 's  my  mare  !  " 

He  was  immediately  seized  by  two  men  who 
attempted  to  pass  a  cord  over  his  wrists.  Lynde 
resisted  so  desperately  that  a  third  man  was 


72  THE   QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 

called  into  requisition,  and  the  three  succeeded 
in  tying  his  hands  and  placing  him  upon  a 
saddle  vacated  by  one  of  the  riders.  All  this 
occupied  hardly  a  minute. 

"  Will  you  go  along  quietly,"  said  one  of 
the  men  roughly,  "  or  will  you  be  carried  ?  " 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this ! "  demanded 
Lynde,  with  the  veins  standing  out  on  his  fore- 
head. 

He  received  no  reply  from  any  of  the  group, 
which  seemed  to  be  composed  of  farmers  and 
laboring-hands,  with  two  or  three  persons  whose 
social  status  did  not  betray  itself.  Directly  be- 
hind the  girl  and,  like  her,  mounted  on  a  horse 
led  by  a  couple  of  rustics,  was  the  white-haired 
old  gentleman  who  had  repulsed  Lynde  so 
rudely.  Lynde  noticed  that  his  hands  were 
also  secured  by  cords,  an  indignity  which  in 
no  wise  altered  the  benevolent  and  satisfied  ex- 
pression of  his  face.  Lynde's  saddle  and  valise 
were  attached  to  the  old  gentleman's  horse. 
Lynde  instinctively  looked  around  for  the  ship- 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  73 

builder.  There  he  was,  flushed  and  sullen,  sit* 
ting  on  a  black  nag  as  bony  and  woebegone 
as  himself,  guarded  by  two  ill-favored  fellows. 
Not  only  were  the  ship-builder's  arms  pinioned, 
but  his  feet  were  bound  by  a  rope  fastened  to 
each  ankle  and  passed  under  the  nag's  belly. 
It  was  clear  to  Lynde  that  he  himself,  the  old 
clergyman,  and  the  girl  were  the  victims  of 
some  dreadful  misconception,  possibly  brought 
about  by  the  wretch  who  had  purloined  the 
saddle. 

"  Gentlemen !  "  cried  Lynde,  as  the  party  be- 
gan to  advance,  "  I  protest  against  this  outrage 
so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  and  I  venture  to 
protest  on  the  part  of  the  lady.  I  am  con- 
vinced that  she  is  incapable  of  any  act  to  war- 
rant such  treatment.  I  —  I  know  her  slightly," 
he  added,  hesitating. 

"  0,  yes,"  said  the  girl,  folding  her  hands 
demurely  in  her  lap,  "  and  I  know  you,  too, 
very  well.  You  are  my  husband." 

This  announcement  struck  Lynde  speechless. 


74  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

The  rough  men  exchanged  amused  glances,  and 
the  ship-builder  gave  vent  to  a  curious  dry 
laugh.  Lynde  could  have  killed  him.  The 
party  moved  on.  Up  to  this  moment  the  young 
man  had  been  boiling  with  rage ;  his  rage  now 
yielded  place  to  amazement.  What  motive  had 
prompted  the  girl  to  claim  that  relationship  ? 
Was  it  a  desperate  appeal  to  him  for  protec- 
tion ?  But  brother,  or  cousin,  or  friend  would 
have  served  as  well.  Her  impulsive  declara- 
tion, which  would  be  at  once  disproved,  might 
result  in  serious  complications  for  him  and  her. 
But  it  had  not  been  an  impulsive  declaration ; 
she  had  said  it  very  calmly,  and,  he  fancied, 
with  just  the  lightest  touch  of  coquetry,  "  You 
are  my  husband!"  For  several  minutes  Lynde 
did  not  dare  to  let  his  eyes  wander  in  her 
direction.  She  was  a  pace  or  so  in  the  rear 
at  his  right.  To  see  her  he  would  be  obliged 
to  turn  slightly ;  this  he  presently  did,  with  a 
movement  as  if  settling  himself  more  easily  in 
the  saddle.  The  girl's  loose  hair  was  blown 


THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA.  75 

like  a  black  veil  over  her  face,  putting  her  into 
mourning ;  she  was  steadying  herself  with  one 
hand  resting  on  Mary's  mane  ;  her  feet  were 
crossed,  and  a  diminutive  slipper  had  fallen 
from  one  of  them.  There  was  something  so 
helpless  and  appealing  in  the  girl's  attitude 
that  Lynde  was  touched. 

"  May  I  speak  with  you,  sir  ?  "  he  said,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  a  man  whom  somebody 
had  called  Morton,  and  who  appeared  to  issue 
the  orders  for  the  party.  The  man  came  to 
Lynde's  side. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  sir,  explain  this  !  Who 
is  that  young  woman  ?  " 

"  You  said  you  knew  her,"  returned  the  man, 
not  unpleasantly. 

"  Indeed  I  said  so,"  replied  Lynde,  redden- 
ing. "  What  has  happened  ?  What  has  she 
done,  what  have  I  done,  what  has  the  old  cler- 
gyman done,  that  we  should  be  seized  like 
murderers  on  the  public  highway?" 

"  Be   quiet   now,"  said   the  man,  laying  his 


76  THE  QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 

hand  soothingly  on  Lynde's  arm,  and  looking 
at  him  steadih  gave  Tything  will  be  satisfac- 
torily explains  could  have"~- 

Lynde'    J.  on.    Up  to  this  mom^am. 

"  I  c  -'teen  boilinn-  -with  rage ;  lr'ied,  as  the 
man  returned  to  his  found  position,  "  that  the 
result  of  the  explanation  will  be  far  from  satis- 
factory to  you.  I  shall  hold  to  strict  account 
every  man  who  has  had  land  in  this  busi- 
ness. I  Cemand  to  be  '!  ght  before  a  magis- 
trate, a  justice  of  the  peace,  if  there  is  one 
in  this  God-forsaken  country." 

No  attention  was  paid  to  Lynde's  fresh  out- 
break. Some  one  picked  up  his  hat  and  set 
it  on  the  back  of  his  head,  giving  him  quite  a 
rakish  air.  His  dignity  suffered  until  the  wind 
took  the  hat  again.  The  party  proceeded  in 
silence,  halting  once  to  tighten  a  girth,  and 
another  time  to  wait  for  a  straggler.  If  the 
men  spoke  to  each  other  it  was  in  subdued  tones 
or  whispers.  Two  of  the  horsemen  trotted  on 
a  hundred  yards  in  advance,  like  skirmishers 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  77 

thrown  out  in  front  of  an  attacking  force. 
There  was  something  iraym6  is  mysterious 
precaution  and  reti^ary's  mane  ;  wildered  and 
exasperated  I  a  diminutive  slipper  detail. 
Tary,  in  a^f  them.  T^T-P,  was  sor^  g,  had 
fallen  to  the  rear;  ^  young  man  could  no 
longer  see  the  girl,  but  ever  before  his  eyes 
was  the  piteous,  unslippered  little  foot  with  its 
arched  instep. 

The  party  was  nc  it  the  base  of -'the  de- 
clivity. Instead  of  following  the  -read  »  the 
village,  the  horses  turned  abruptly  into  a  bridle- 
path branching  off  to  the  left,  and  in  the  course 
of  a  few  minutes  passed  through  an  iron-spiked 
gateway  in  a  high  brick  wall  surrounding  the 
large  red  structure  which  had  puzzled  Lynde 
on  first  discovering  the  town.  The  double  gates 
stood  wide  open  and  were  untended ;  they  went 
to,  however,  with  a  clang,  and  the  massive  bolts 
were  shot  as  soon  as  the  party  had  entered.  In 
the  courtyard  Lynde  was  hastily  assisted  from 
the  horse ;  he  did  not  have  an  opportunity  to 


78  THE   QUEEN   OF  SHEBA. 

observe  what  became  of  the  other  three  pris- 
oners. When  his  hands  were  freed  he  docilely 
allowed  himself  to  be  conducted  up  a  flight  of 
stone  steps  and  into  the  vestibule  of  the  build- 
ing, and  thence,  through  a  long  corridor,  to  a 
small  room  in  which  his  guard  left  him.  The 
door  closed  with  a  spring  not  practicable  from 
the  inside,  as  Lynde  ascertained  on  inspec- 
tion. 

The  chamber  was  not  exactly  a  cell ;  it  re- 
sembled rather  the  waiting-room  of  a  peniten- 
tiary. The  carpet,  of  a  tasteless,  gaudy  pattern, 
was  well  worn,  and  the  few  pieces  of  hair-cloth 
furniture,  a  sofa,  a  table,  and  chairs,  had  a 
stiff,  official  air.  A  strongly  barred  window  gave 
upon  a  contracted  garden  —  one  of  those  gardens 
sometimes  attached  to  prisons,  with  mathemat- 
ically cut  box  borders,  and  squares  of  unhealthy, 
party-colored  flowers  looking  like  gangs  of  con- 
victs going  to  meals.  On  his  arrival  at  the 
place  Edward  Lynde  had  offered  no  resistance, 
trusting  that  some  sort  of  judicial  examination 


THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA.  79 

would  promptly  set  him  at  liberty.  Faint  from 
want  of  food,  jaded  by  his  exertions,  and  chaf- 
ing at  the  delay,  he  threw  himself  upon  the 
sofa,  and  waited. 

There  was  a. great  deal  of  confusion  in  the 
building.  Hurried  footsteps  came  and  went  up 
and  down  the  passages  ;  now  and  then  he  heard 
approaching  voices,  which  tantalizingly  passed 
on,  or  died  away  before  reaching  his  door.  Once 
a  shrill  shriek — a  woman's  shriek — rang  through 
the  corridor  and  caused  him  to  spring  to  his 
feet. 

After  the  lapse  of  an  hour  that  had  given 
Lynde  some  general  idea  of  eternity,  the  door 
was  hastily  thrown  open,  and  a  small,  elderly, 
blue-eyed  gentleman,  followed  by  a  man  of  gigan- 
tic stature,  entered  the  chamber. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  cried  the  gentleman,  making 
a  courteous,  deprecatory  gesture  with  his  palms 
spread  outward,  "  we  owe  you  a  million  apolo- 
gies. There  has  been  a  most  lamentable  mis- 
take!" 


80  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

"  A  mistake !  "  said  Lynde  haughtily.  "  Mis- 
take is  a  mild  term  to  apply  to  an  outrage." 

"  Your  indignation  is  just ;  still  it  was  a  mis- 
take, and  one  I  would  not  have  had  happen  for 
the  world.  I  am  Dr.  Pendegrast,  the  super- 
intendent of  this  asylum." 

"This  is  an  asylum!" 

"  An  asylum  for  the  insane,"  returned  Dr. 
Pendegrast.  "I  do  not  know  how  to  express 
my  regret  at  what  has  occurred.  I  can  only 
account  for  the  unfortunate  affair,  and  throw 
myself  upon  your  generosity.  Will  you  allow 
me  to  explain  ?  " 

Lynde  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead  in  a 
bewildered  way.  Then  he  looked  at  the  doctor 
suspiciously  ;  Lynde's  late  experience  had  shaken 
his  faith  in  the  general  sanity  of  his  species. 
"  Certainly,"  he  said,  "  I  would  like  to  have 
this  matter  explained  to  me ;  for  I  '11  be  hanged 
if  I  understand  it.  This  is  an  asylum?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  you  are  the  superintendent?" 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  81 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  —  naturally  —  you  are  not  a  luna- 
tic?" 

"  Certainly  not !  "   said  the  doctor,  starting. 

"  Very  well ;  I  did  n't  know.  I  am  listen- 
ing to  you,  sir." 

"Early  this  morning,"  said  Dr.  Pendegrast, 
somewhat  embarrassed  by  Lynde's  singular  man- 
ner, "  a  number  of  patients  whom  we  had  always 
considered  tractable  seized  the  attendants  one 
by  one  at  breakfast,  and,  before  a  general  alarm 
could  be  given,  locked  them  in  the  cells.  Some 
of  us  were  still  in  our  bedrooms  when  the  as- 
sault began  and  were  there  overpowered.  We 
chanced  to  be  short-handed  at  the  time,  two  of 
the  attendants  being  ill,  and  another  absent.  As 
I  say,  we  were  all  seized  —  the  women  attendants 
and  nurses  as  well  —  and  locked  up.  Higgins 
here,  my  head-man,  they  put  into  a  strait- 
jacket." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  spoke  up  Higgins  for  himself, 
"  they  did  so '  " 


82  THE  QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 

"Me,"  continued  Dr.  Pendegrast,  smiling, 
"they  confined  in  the  padded  chamber." 

Lynde  looked  at  him  blankly. 

"  A  chamber  with  walls  thickly  cushioned,  to 
prevent  violent  patients  from  inflicting  injury 
on  themselves,"  explained  the  doctor.  "  7,  you 
see,  was  considered  a  very  bad  case  indeed ! 
Meanwhile,  Morton,  the  under-keeper,  was  in 
the  garden,  and  escaped ;  but  unfortunately,  in 
his  excitement,  he  neglected  to  lock  the  main 
gate  after  him.  Morton  gave  the  alarm  to  the 
people  in  the  village,  who,  I  am  constrained  to 
say,  did  not  behave  handsomely.  Instead  of 
coming  to  our  relief  and  assisting  to  restore 
order,  which  might  easily  have  been  done  even 
then,  they  barricaded  themselves  in  their  houses, 
in  a  panic.  Morton  managed  to  get  a  horse, 

and  started  for  G .  In  the  mean  time  the 

patients  who  had  made  the  attack  liberated  the 
patients  still  in  confinement,  and  the  whole 
rushed  in  a  body  out  of  the  asylum  and  spread 
themselves  over  the  village." 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  83 

"  That  must  have  been  the  crowd  I  saw  in 
the  streets  when  I  sighted  the  town,"  said 
Lynde,  thinking  aloud. 

"  If  you  saw  persons  in  the  street,"  returned 
the  doctor,  "  they  were  not  the  townsfolk. 
They  kept  very  snug,  I  assure  you.  But  per- 
mit me  to  finish,  Mr.  —  " 

"  My  name  is  Lynde." 

"  Morton,"  continued  the  doctor,  bowing, 
"having  secured  several  volunteers  before  reach- 
ing G ,  decided  to  return  with  what  force  he 

had,  knowing  that  every  instant  was  precious. 
On  his  way  back  he  picked  up  three  of  the 
poor  wanderers,  and,  unluckily,  picked  up 
you." 

"  He  should  not  have  committed  such  a  stupid 
error,"  said  Lynde,  clinging  stoutly  to  his  grie^ 
ance.  "  He  ought  to  have  seen  that  I  was  not 
an  inmate  of  the  asylum." 

"  An  attendant,  my  dear  Mr.  Lynde,  is  not 
necessarily  familiar  with  all  the  patients ;  he 
may  know  only  those  in  his  special  ward.  Be- 


84  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

sides,  you  were  bare-headed  and  running,  and 
seemed  in  a  state  of  great  cerebral  excitement." 

"  I  was  chasing  a  man  who  had  stolen  my 
property." 

"  Morton  and  the  others  report  that  you  be- 
haved with  great  violence." 

"  Of  course  I  did.  I  naturally  resented  being 
seized  and  bound." 

"Your  natural  violence  confirmed  them  in 
their  natural  suspicion,  you  see.  Assuredly  they 
were  to  blame ;  but  the  peculiar  circumstances 
must  plead  for  them." 

"  But  when  I  spoke  to  them  calmly  and  ra- 
tionally— " 

"  My  good  sir,"  interrupted  the  doctor,  "  if 
sane  people  always  talked  as  rationally  and  sen- 
sibly as  some  of  the  very  maddest  of  my  poor 
friends  sometimes  do,  there  would  be  fewer  fool- 
ish things  said  in  the  world.  What  remark 
is  that  the  great  poet  puts  into  the  mouth  of 
Polonius,  speaking  of  Hamlet  ?  '  How  pregnant 
sometimes  his  replies  are !  a  happiness  that  often 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  85 

madness  hits  on,  which  reason  and  sanity  could 
not  so  prosperously  be  delivered  of.'  My  dear 
Mr.  Lynde,  it  was  your  excellent  good  sense  that 
convicted  you !  By  the  way,  I  believe  you  claimed 
the  horse  which  Morton  found  adrift  on  the  road." 

"  Yes,  sir,  it  was  mine ;  at  least  I  was  riding 
it  this  morning  when  the  saddle-girth  broke,  and 
the  mare  got  away  from  me." 

"  Then  of  course  that  was  your  saddle  Blais- 
dell  was  running  off  with." 

"Blaisdell?" 

"  One  of  our  most  dangerous  patients,  in  fact, 
the  only  really  dangerous  patient  at  present  in 
the  establishment.  Yet  you  should  hear  him 
talk  sometimes!  To-day,  thank  God,  he  hap- 
pened to  be  in  his  ship-building  mood.  Other- 
wise—  I  dare  not  think  what  he  might  have 
done.  I  should  be  in  despair  if  he  had  not 
been  immediately  retaken.  Oddly  enough,  all 
the  poor  creatures,  except  three,  returned  to 
the  asylum  of  their  own  will,  after  a  brief  ram- 
ble through  the  village." 


86  THE  QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

"And  the  white-haired  old  gentleman  who 
looked  like  a  clergyman,  is  he  mad?" 

"Mackenzie?  Merely  idiotic,"  replied  the 
doctor,  with  the  cool  professional  air. 

"And  the  young  girl,"  asked  Lynde,  hesita- 
tingly, "is  she  —  " 

"  A  very  sad  case,"  interrupted  Dr.  Pende- 
grast,  with  a  tenderer  expression  settling  upon  his 
countenance.  "  The  saddest  thing  in  the  world." 

"  Insane  ?  " 

"Hopelessly  so,  I  fear." 

A  nameless  heaviness  fell  upon  Lynde's  heart. 
He  longed  to  ask  other  questions,  but  he  did 
not  know  how  to  shape  them.  He  regretted 
that  subsequently. 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Lynde,"  said  the  doctor, 
"  in  your  general  pardon  I  wish  you  to  include 
my  unavoidable  delay  in  coming  or  sending  to 
you.  When  you  were  brought  here  I  was  still 
in  durance  vile,  and  Higgins  was  in  his  strait- 
jacket.  On  being  released,  my  hands  were 
full,  as  you  can  suppose.  Moreover,  I  did  not 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  87 

learn  at  once  of  your  detention.  The  saddle 
and  the  valise  caused  me  to  suspect  that  a 
blunder  had  been  committed.  I  cannot  ade- 
quately express  my  regrets.  In  ten  minutes," 
continued  Dr.  Pendegrast,  turning  a  fat  gold 
watch  over  on  its  back  in  the  palm  of  his 
hand,  where  it  looked  like  a  little  yellow  turtle, 
"  in  ten  minutes  dinner  will  be  served.  Unless 
you  do  me  the  honor  to  dine  with  me,  I  shall  not 
believe  in  the  sincerity  of  your  forgiveness." 

"Thanks,"  said  Lynde  dejectedly.  "I  fully 
appreciate  your  thoughtfulness ;  I  am  nearly 
famished,  but  I  do  not  think  I  could  eat  a 
mouthful  here.  Excuse  me  for  saying  it,  but 
I  should  have  to  remain  here  permanently  if  I 
were  to  stay  another  hour.  I  quite  forgive 
Mr.  Morton  and  the  others,"  Lynde  went  on, 
rising  and  giving  the  doctor  his  hand  ;  "  and 
I  forgive  you  also,  since  you  insist  upon  being 
forgiven,  though  I  do  not  know  for  what.  If 
my  horse,  and  my  traps,  and  my  hat — really, 
I  don't  see  how  they  could  have  helped  taking 


88  THE   QUEEN   OF  SHEBA. 

me  for  a  lunatic  —  can  be  brought  together,  I 
will  go  and  dine  at  the  tavern." 

Half  an  hour  afterward  Edward  Lynde  dis- 
mounted at  the  steps  of  the  rustic  hotel.  The 
wooden  shutters  were  down  now,  and  the  front 
door  stood  hospitably  open.  A  change  had 
come  over  the  entire  village.  There  were 
knots  of  people  at  the  street  corners  and  at 
garden  gates,  discussing  the  event  of  the  day. 
There  was  also  a  knot  of  gossips  in  the  hotel 
bar-room  to  whom  the  landlord,  Mr.  Zeno  Dodge, 
was  giving  a  thrilling  account  of  an  attack 
made  on  the  tavern  by  a  maniac  who  had 
fancied  himself  a  horse! 

"  The  critter,"  cried  Mr.  Dodge,  dramatically, 
"  was  on  the  p'int  of  springin'  up  the  piazzy, 
when  Martha  handed  me  the  shot-gun." 

Mr.  Dodge  was  still  in  a  heroic  attitude, 
with  one  arm  stretched  out  to  receive  the 
weapon  and  his  eye  following  every  movement  of 
a  maniac  obligingly  personated  by  the  spittoon 
between  the  windows,  when  Lynde  entered. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  89 

Mr.  Dodge's  arm  slowly  descended  to  his  side, 
his  jaw  fell,  and  the  narrative  broke  off  short. 

Lynde  requested  dinner  in  a  private  room, 
and  Mr.  Dodge  deposed  the  maid  in  order  to 
bring  in  the  dishes  himself  and  scrutinize  his 
enigmatical  guest.  In  serving  the  meal  the 
landlord  invented  countless  pretexts  to  remain 
in  the  room.  After  a  while  Lynde  began  to 
feel  it  uncomfortable  to  have  those  sharp  green 
eyes  continually  boring  into  the  back  of  his 
head. 

"  Yes,"  he  exclaimed,  wearily,  "  I  am  the 
man." 

"  I  thought  you  was.  Glad  to  see  you,  sir," 
said  Mr.  Dodge,  politely. 

"  This  morning  you  took  me  for  an  escaped 
lunatic  ?  " 

"I  did  so  —  fust-off." 

"  A  madman  who  imagined  himself  a  horse  ?  " 

"  That 's  what  I  done,"  said  Mr.  Dodge,  con- 
tritely, "  an'  no  wonder,  with  that  there  sad- 
dle. They  're  a  very  queer  lot,  them  crazy 


90  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

chaps.  There  's  one  on  'em  up  there  who  calls 
himself  Abraham  Lincoln,  an'  then  there  's  an- 
other who  thinks  he  's  a  telegraph  wire  an' 
hes  messages  runnin'  up  an'  down  him  contin- 
ally.  These  is  new  potatoes,  sir,  —  early  rosers. 
There  's  no  end  to  their  cussed  kinks.  When 
I  see  you  prancin'  round  under  the  winder 
with  that  there  saddle,  I  says  at  once  to  Mar- 
tha, *  Martha,  here  's  a  luny ! '  " 

"  A   very   natural   conclusion,"    said  Lynde, 


"  Was  n't  it  now  ?  " 

"And  if  you  had  shot  me  to  death,"  said 
Lynde,  helping  himself  to  another  chop,  "I 
should  have  been  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

Mr.  Dodge  eyed  the  young  man  dubiously 
for  a  dozen  seconds  or  so. 

"  Comin' !  comin' ! "  cried  Mr.  Dodge,  in  re- 
sponse to  a  seemingly  vociferous  call  which 
had  failed  to  reach  Lynde's  ear. 

When  Edward  Lynde  had  finished  dinner, 
Mary  was  brought  to  the  door.  Under  the 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  91 

supervision  of  a  group  of  spectators  assembled 
on  the  piazza,  Lynde  mounted,  and  turned  the 
mare's  head  directly  for  El  vermouth.  He  had 
no  heart  to  go  any  farther  due  north.  The 
joyousness  had  dropped  out  of  the  idle  summer 
journey.  He  had  gone  in  search  of  the  pic- 
turesque and  the  peculiar ;  he  hacf  found  them 
—  and  he  wished  he  had  not. 


92  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA 

V. 

CINDERELLA'S  SLIPPER. 

ON  the  comb  of  the  hill  where  his  adventure 
had  begun  and  culminated,  —  it  seemed  to 
him  now  like  historic  ground,  —  Edward  Lynde 
reined  in  Mary,  to  take  a  parting  look  at  the 
village  nestled  in  the  plain  below.  Already  the 
afternoon  light  was  withdrawing  from  the  glossy 
chestnuts  and  drooping  elms,  and  the  twilight 
—  it  crept  into  the  valley  earlier  than  else- 
where—  was  weaving  its  half  invisible  webs 
under  the  eaves  and  about  the  gables  of  the 
houses.  But  the  two  red  towers  of  the  asylum 
reached  up  into  the  mellow  radiance  of  the 
waning  sun,  and  stood  forth  boldly.  They 
were  the  last  objects  his  gaze  rested  upon,  and 
to  them  alone  his  eyes  sent  a  farewell. 

"  Poor    little    thing !    poor    little    Queen    of 
Sheba !  "   he  said  softly.      Then  the  ridge  rose 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  93 

between  him  and  the  village,  and  shut  him  out 
forever. 

Nearly  a  mile  beyond  the  spot  where  Mary 
had  escaped  from  him  that  morning,  Edward 
Lynde  drew  up  ;he  mare  so  sharply  that  she 
sunk  back  on  her  haunches.  He  dismounted 
in  haste,  and  stooping  down,  with  the  rein 
thrown  over  one  arm,  picked  up  an  object  lying 
in  the  middle  of  t-Le  road  under  the  horse's  very 
hoofs. 

It  was  on  a  l^iesday  morning  that  Lynde 
re-entered  Rivermouth,  after  an  absence  of  just 
eight  days,  f  He  lad  started  out  fresh  and  crisp 
as  a  new  bank-note,  and  came  back  rumpled 
and  soiled  and  tattered,  like  that  same  note  in 
a  state  to  be  withdrawn  from  circulation/  The 
shutters  were  up  at  all  the  shop-windows  in 
the  cobble-paved  street,  and  had  the  appear- 
ance of  not  having  been  taken  down  since  he 
left.  Everything  was  unchanged,  yet  it  seemed 
to  Lynde  that  ir  lad  been  gone  a  year. 


94  THE   QUEEN  OF  SHEBA, 

On  Wednesday  morning  when  Mr.  Bowlsby 
came  down  to  the  bank  he  was  slightly  sur- 
prised at  seeing  the  young  cashier  at  his  ac- 
customed desk.  To  Mr.  Bcwlsby's  brief  inter- 
\ogations  then,  and  to  Miss  Mildred  Bowlsby's 
toore  categorical  questions  i~  -.he  evening,  Lynde 
Vffered  no  very  lucid  reason  for  curtailing  his 
racation.  Travelling  alone  liad  not  been  as 
pleasant  as  he  anticipated ;  die  horse  was  a 
nuisance  to  look  after ;  ant.  then  the  country 
taverns  were  snuffy  and  unendurable.  As  to 
where  he  had  been  and  wha:  he  had  seen, — 
he  must  have  seen  something  and  been  some- 
where in  eight  days,  —  his  answers  were  so 
evasive  that  Miss  Mildred  was  positive  some- 
thing distractingly  romantic  had  befallen  the 
young  man. 

"  If  you  must  know,"  ne  said,  one  evening, 
"  I  will  tell  you  where  I  went." 

"  Tell  me,  then  !  " 

"I  went  to  Constantinople'' 

Miss  Mildred  found  that  nearly  impertinent. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  95 

There  was,  too,  an  alteration  in  Lynde's  man- 
ner which  cruelly  helped  to  pique  her  curiosity. 
His  frank,  half  satirical,  but  wholly  amiable 
way,  —  an  armor  that  had  hitherto  rendered  him 
invulnerable  to  Miss  Mildred's  coquettish  shafts, 
—  was  wanting;  he  was  less  ready  to  laugh 
than  formerly,  and  sometimes  in  the  midst  of 
company  he  fell  into  absent-minded  moods.  In- 
stead of  being  the  instigator  and  leader  of  pic- 
nics up  the  river,  he  frequently  pleaded  bank 
duties  as  an  excuse  for  not  joining  such  par- 
ties. "  He  is  not  at  all  as  nice  as  he  used  to 
be,"  was  Miss  Mildred's  mental  summing  up  of 
Lynde  a  fortnight  after  his  return. 

He  was,  in  fact,  unaccountably  depressed  by 
his  adventure  in  the  hill  country ;  he  could  not 
get  it  out  of  his  mind.  The  recollection  of  de- 
tails which  he  had  not  especially  remarked  at 
the  time  came  to  him  in  the  midst  of  his  work 
at  the  bank.  Sometimes  when  he  turned  off 
the  gas  at  night,  or  just  as  he  was  falling  asleep, 
the  sharp,  attenuated  figure  of  the  ship-builder 


96  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA, 

limned  itself  against  the  blackness  of  the  cham- 
ber, or  the  old  gentleman's  vacuous  countenance 
in  its  frame  of  silver  hair  peered  in  through 
the  hangings  of  the  bed.  But  more  frequently 
it  was  the  young  girl's  face  that  haunted  Lynde. 
He  saw  her  as  she  came  up  the  sunny  road, 
swinging  the  flower  in  her  hand,  and  looking 
like  one  of  Fra  Angelico's  seraphs  or  some 
saint  out  of  an  illuminated  mediaeval  missal; 
then  he  saw  her  seated  on  the  horse,  helpless 
and  piteous  with  the  rude,  staring  men  about 
her.  If  he  dreamed,  it  was  of  her  drawing  her- 
self up  haughtily  and  saying,  "  I  am  the  Queen 
of  Sheba."  On  two  or  three  nights,  when  he 
had  not  been  dreaming,  he  was  startled  out  of 
his  slumber  by  a  voice  whispering  close  to  his 
ear :  "  I  know  you,  too,  very  well.  You  are 
my  husband-^X 

Mr.  Bowlsby  and  his  daughter  were  the  only 
persons  in  Rivermouth  to  whom  Lynde  could 
have  told  the  story  of  his  journey.  He  decided 
not  to  confide  it  to  either,  since  he  felt  it  would 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  97 

be  vain  to  attempt  to  explain  the  sombre  effect 
which  the  whole  affair  had  had  on  him. 

"  I  do  not  understand  what  makes  me  think 
of  that  poor  girl  all  the  time,"  mused  Lynde 
one  day,  as  he  stood  by  the  writing-table  in  his 
sitting-room.  "  It  can't  be  this  that  keeps  her 
in  my  mind." 

He  took  up  a  slipper  which  was  lying  on  the 
table  in  the  midst  of  carved  pipes  and  paper- 
weights and  odds  and  ends.  It  was  a  very 
small  slipper,  nearly  new,  with  high  pointed 
heel  and  a  square  jet  buckle  at  the  instep :  evi- 
dently of  foreign  make,  and  cut  after  the  arch 
pattern  of  the  slippers  we  see  peeping  from  the 
flowered  brocade  skirts  of  Sir  Peter  Lely's  full- 
length  ladies.  It  was  such  an  absurd  shoe,  a 
toy  shoe,  a  child  might  have  worn  it ! 

"  It  cannot  be  tnis,"  said  Lynde. 

And  yet  it  was  that,  more  or  less.  Lynde 
had  taken  the  slipper  from  his  valise  the  even- 
ing he  got  home,  and  set  it  on  the  corner  of 
the  desk,  where  it  straightway  made  itself  into 


98  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

a  cunning  ornament.  The  next  morning  he  put 
it  into  one  of  the  drawers ;  but  the  table  looked 
so  barren  and  commonplace  without  it  that  pres- 
ently the  thing  was  back  again.  There  it  had 
remained  ever  since. 

It  met  his  eye  every  morning  when  he  opened 
the  door  of  his  bedroom ;  it  was  there  when  he 
came  home  late  at  night,  and  seemed  to  be  sit- 
ting up  for  him,  in  the  reproachful,  feminine 
fashion.  When  he  was  writing  his  letters,  there 
it  was,  with  a  prim,  furtive  air  of  looking  on. 
It  was  not  like  a  mere  slipper ;  it  had  traits  and 
an  individuality  of  its  own  ;  there  were  moments 
when  the  jet  beads  in  the  buckle  sparkled  with 
a  sort  of  intelligence.  Sitting  at  night,  reading 
under  the  drop-light,  Lynde  often  had  an  odd 
sensation  as  if  the  little  shoe  would  presently 
come  tripping  across  the  green  table-cloth  to- 
wards him.  He  had  a  hundred  fanciful  humors 
growing  out  of  that  slipper.  Sometimes  he 
was  tempted  to  lock  it  up  or  throw  it  away. 
Sometimes  he  would  say  to  himself,  half  mock- 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  99 

ingly  and  half  sadly,  "  That  is  your  wife's  slip- 
per ;  "  then  he  would  turn  wholly  sad,  thinking 
how  tragic  that  would  be  if  it  were  really  so. 

It  was  a  part  of  the  girl's  self ;  it  had  borne 
her  lovely  weight ;  it  still  held  the  impress  of 
her  foot ;  it  would  not  let  Lynde  entirely  for- 
get her  while  it  was  under  his  eyes. 

The  slipper  had  stood  on  the  writing-table 
four  or  five  months,  —  an  object  of  consuming 
curiosity  and  speculation  to  the  young  woman 
who  dusted  Lynde's  chambers,  —  when  an  inci- 
dent occurred  which  finally  led  to  its  banish- 
ment. 

Lynde  never  had  visitors  ;  there  were  few  men 
of  his  age  in  the  town,  and  none  was  sufficiently 
intimate  with  him  to  come  to  his  rooms ;  but 
it  chanced  one  evening  that  a  young  man  named 
Preston  dropped  in  to  smoke  a  cigar  with  Lynde. 
Preston  had  recently  returned  from  abroad, 
where  he  had  been  an  attach^  of  the  Ameri- 
can Legation  at  London,  and  was  now  generally 
regarded  as  the  prospective  proprietor  of  Miss 


100  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

Mildred.  He  was  an  entertaining,  mercurial 
young  fellow,  into  whose  acquaintanceship  Lynde 
had  fallen  at  the  Bowlsbys'. 

"  Ah,  you  rogue !  "  cried  Preston  gayly,  pick- 
ing up  the  slipper.  "  Did  she  give  it  you  ?  " 

"  Who  ?  "  asked  Lynde,  with  a  start. 

"  Devilish  snug  little  foot !  Was  it  a  dan- 
seuse  ?  " 

"No,"  returned  Lynde,  freezingly. 

"An  actress?" 

"  No,"  said  Lynde,  taking  the  slipper  from 
Preston's  hand  and  gently  setting  it  back  on. 
the  writing-table.  "  It  was  not  an  actress  ;  and 
yet  she  played  a  r61e —  in  a  blacker  tragedy 
than  any  you  ever  saw  on  the  stage." 

"  Lynde,  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  spoke  thought- 
lessly, supposing  it  a  light  matter,  don't  you 
see  ?  " 

"There  was  no  offence,"  said  Lynde,  hiding 
his  subtile  hurt. 

"  It  was  stupid  in  me,"  said  Preston  the  next 
night,  relating  the  incident  to  Miss  Bowlsby. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  101 

"  I  never  once  thought  it  might  be  a  thing  con- 
nected with  the  memory  of  his  mother  or  sis- 
ter, don't  you  see?  I  took  it  for  a  half  senti- 
mental souvenir  of  some  flirtation." 

"  Mr.  Lynde's  mother  died  when  he  was  a 
child,  and  he  never  had  a  sister,"  said  Miss 
Bowlsby,  thoughtfully.  "I  shouldn't  wonder," 
she  added  irrelevantly,  after  a  pause. 

"  At  what,  Miss  Mildred  ?  " 

"At  anything!" 

One  of  those  womanly  intuitions  which  set 
mere  man-logic  at  defiance  was  come  to  whis- 
per in  Miss  Bowlsby's  ear  that  that  slipper 
had  performed  some  part  in  Edward  Lynde's 
untold  summer  experience. 

"  He  was  laughing  at  you,  Mr.  Preston ;  he 
was  grossly  imposing  on  your  unsophisticated 
innocence." 

"Really?     Is  he  as  deep  as  that?" 

"  He  is  very  deep,"  said  Miss  Bowlsby,  sol- 
emnly. 

On  his  way  home  from  the  bank,  one  after- 


102  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

noon  in  that  same  week,  Lynde  overtook  Miss 
Mildred  walking,  and  accompanied  her  a  piece 
down  the  street. 

"  Mr.  Lynde,  shall  you  go  on  another  horse- 
back excursion  next  summer  ?  "  she  asked,  with- 
out prelude. 

"I  haven't  decided;  but  I  think  not." 

"  Of  course  you  ought  to  go." 

"Why  of  course,  Miss  Mildred?" 

"  Why  ?     Because  —  because —  don't  ask  me ! " 

"  But  I  do  ask  you." 

"  You  insist  ?  " 

"  Positively." 

"  Well,  then,  how  will  you  ever  return  Cin- 
derella her  slipper  if  you  don't  go  in  search  of 
her?" 

Lynde  bit  his  lip,  and  felt  that  the  blackest 
criminals  of  antiquity  were  as  white  as  driven 
snow  compared  with  Preston. 

"  The  prince  in  the  story,  you  know,"  contin- 
ued Miss  Bowlsby,  with  her  smile  of  ingenue, 
"  hunted  high  and  low  until  he  found  her  again." 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  103 

"  That  prince  was  a  very  energetic  fellow," 
said  Lynde,  hastily  putting  on  his  old  light 
armor.  "  Possibly  I  should  not  have  to  travel 
so  far  from  home,"  he  added,  with  a  bow.  "  I 
know  at  least  one  lady  in  Ri vermouth  who  has 
a  Cinderella  foot." 

"  She  has  two  of  them,  Mr.  Lynde,"  responded 
Miss  Mildred,  dropping  him  a  courtesy. 

The  poor  little  slipper's  doom  was  sealed. 
The  edict  for  its  banishment  had  gone  forth. 
If  it  were  going  to  be  the  town's  talk  he  could 
not  keep  it  on  his  writing-desk.  As  soon  as 
Lynde  got  back  to  his  chambers,  he  locked  up 
Cinderella's  slipper  in  an  old  trunk  in  a  closet 
seldom  or  never  opened. 

The  enchantment,  whatever  it  was,  was 
broken.  Although  he  missed  the  slipper  from 
among  the  trifles  scattered  over  his  table,  its 
absence  brought  him  a  kind  of  relief.  He  less 
frequently  caught  himself  falling  into  brown 
studies.  The  details  of  his  adventure  daily 
grew  more  indistinct ;  the  picture  was  bccom- 


104  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

ing  a  mere  outline ;  it  was  fading  away.  He 
might  have  been  able  in  the  course  of  time 
to  set  the  whole  occurrence  down  as  a  gro- 
tesque dream,  if  he  had  not  now  and  then 
beheld  Deacon  Twombly  driving  by  the  bank 
with  Mary  attached  to  the  battered  family  carry- 
all. Mary  was  a  fact  not  easily  disposed  of. 

Insensibly  Lynde  lapsed  into  his  old  habits. 
The  latter  part  of  this  winter  at  Rivermouth  was 
unusually  gay ;  the  series  of  evening  parties 
and  lectures  and  private  theatricals  extended 
into  the  spring,  whose  advent  was  signalized 
by  the  marriage  of  Miss  Bowlsby  and  Preston. 
In  June  Lynde  ran  on  to  New  York  for  a 
week,  where  he  had  a  clandestine  dinner  with 
his  uncle  at  Delmonico's,  and  bade  good-by  to 
Flemming,  who  was  on  the  eve  of  starting 
on  a  protracted  tour  through  the  East.  "I 
shall  make  it  a  point  to  visit  the  land  of  the 
Sabaeans,"  said  Flemming,  with  his  great  cheery 
laugh,  "  and  discover,  if  possible,  the  unknown 
site  of  the  ancient  capital  of  Sheba."  Lynde 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  105 

had  confided  the  story  to  his  friend  one  night, 
coming  home  from  the  theatre. 

Once  more  at  Rivermouth,  Edward  Lynde 
took  up  the  golden  threads  of  his  easy  exist- 
ence. But  this  life  of  ideal  tranquillity  and 
contentment  was  not  to  be  permitted  him. 
One  morning  in  the  latter  part  of  August  he 
received  a  letter  advising  him  that  his  uncle 
had  had  an  alarming  stroke  of  apoplexy.  The 
letter  was  followed  within  the  hour  by  a  tele- 
gram announcing  the  death  of  David  Lynde. 


106  THE  QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 

VI. 

BEYOND   THE   SEA. 

TN  the  early  twilight  of  a  July  evening  in  the 
-*-  year  1875,  two  young  Americans,  neither 
dreaming  of  the  other's  presence,  came  face  to 
face  on  the  steps  of  a  hotel  on  the  Quai  du 
Montblanc  at  Geneva.  The  two  men,  one  of 
whom  was  so  bronzed  by  Eastern  suns  that 
his  friend  looked  pallid  beside  him,  exchanged 
a  long,  incredulous  stare ;  then  their  hands  met, 
and  the  elder  cried  out,  "  Of  all  men  in  the 
world!" 

"  Flemming  !  "  exclaimed  the  other  eagerly ; 
"  I  thought  you  were  in  Egypt." 

"So  I  was,  a  month  ago.  What  are  you 
doing  over  here,  Ned  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  to  tell  the  truth." 

"  You  don't  know !  "  laughed  Flemming.  "  En- 
joying yourself,  I  suppose." 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  107 

"The  supposition  is  a  little  rash,"  said  Ed- 
ward Lynde.  "  I  have  been  over  nearly  a  year, 
—  quite  a  year,  in  fact.  After  Uncle  David's 
death  —  " 

"  Poor  old  fellow !    I  got  the  news  at  Smyrna." 

"  After  he  was  gone,  and  the  business  of  the 
estate  was  settled,  I  turned  restless  at  River- 
mouth.  It  was  cursedly  lonesome.  I  hung  on 
there  awhile,  and  then  I  came  abroad." 

"  A  rich  man  —  my  father  wrote  me.  I  have 
had  no  letters  from  you.  Your  uncle  treated 
you  generously,  Ned." 

"  Did  he  not  always  treat  me  generously  ? " 
said  Lynde,  with  a  light  coming  into  his  face 
and  instantly  dying  out  again.  "  Yes,  he  left 
me  a  pile  of  money  and  a  heart  ache.  I  can 
hardly  bear  to  talk  of  it  even  now,  and  it  will 
be  two  years  this  August.  But  come  up  to 
my  room.  By  Jove,  I  am  glad  to  see  you! 
How  is  it  you  are  in  Geneva  ?  I  was  thinking 
about  you  yesterday,  and  wondering  whether 
you  were  drifting  down  the  Nile  in  a  daha- 


108  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

beeah,  or  crossing  the  desert  on  a  dromedary. 
Of  course  you  have  hunted  tigers  and  ele- 
phants :  did  you  kill  anything  ?  " 

"  I  have  n't  killed  anything  but  time.  I  was 
always  a  dead  shot  at  that." 

Lynde  passed  his  arm  through  Flemming's, 
and  the  two  friends  mounted  the  staircase  of 
the  hotel. 

"  How  is  it  you  are  in  Geneva  ? "  repeated 
Lynde. 

"  By  luck,"  answered  Flemming.  "  I  am 
going  home  —  in  a  zigzag  way.  I  've  been 
obliged  to  take  a  reef  in  my  Eastern  itinerary. 
The  fact  is,  I  have  had  a  letter  from  the  old 
gentleman  rather  suggesting  it.  I  believe  he 
has  availed  himself  of  my  absence  to  fall  into 
financial  difficulties." 

"  Why,  I  thought  he  was  rolling  in  wealth." 

"No,  he  is  rolling  in  poverty,  as  nearly  as 
I  can  make  out.  Well,  not  so  bad  as  that. 
Nothing  is  ever  as  bad  as  it  looks.  But  he 
has  met  with  heavy  losses.  I  shall  find  letters 


THE    QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  109 

in  London  and  learn  all  about  it.  He  wrote 
me  not  to  hurry,  that  a  month  or  two  would 
make  no  difference.  When  I  got  to  Munich  I 
thought  I  would  take  a  peep  at  Switzerland 
while  I  had  the  opportunity.  I  have  done  a 
good  piece,  —  from  Lindau  to  Lucerne,  from 
Lucerne  to  Martigny  by  way  of  the  Purca ; 
through  the  Tete  Noire  Pass  to  Chamouni,  and 
from  Chamouni,  here." 

While  Flemming  was  speaking,  Lynde  un- 
locked a  door  at  the  end  of  the  hall  and 
ushered  him  into  a  sitting-room  with  three 
windows,  each  opening  upon  a  narrow  balcony 
of  its  own. 

"  Sit  there,  old  fellow,"  said  Lynde,  wheeling 
an  easy-chair  to  the  middle  window,  "  and  look 
through  my  glass  at  the  view  before  it  takes 
itself  off.  It  is  not  often  as  fine  as  it  is  this 
evening." 

In  front  of  the  hotel  the  blue  waters  of 
the  Rhone  swept  under  the  arches  of  the  Pont 
des  Bergues,  to  lose  themselves  in  the  turbid, 


110  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

glacier-born  Arve,  a  mile  below  the  town.  Be- 
tween the  Pont  des  Bergues  and  the  Pont  du 
Montblanc  lay  the  island  of  Jean  Jacques 
Rousseau,  linked  to  the  quay  by  a  tiny  chain 
bridge.  Opposite,  upon  the  right  bank  of  tho 
Rhone,  stretched  the  handsome  facades  of  tile- 
roofed  buildings,  giving  one  an  idea  of  the  an- 
cient quarter  which  a  closer  inspection  dispels  ; 
for  the  streets  are  crooked  and  steep,  and  the 
houses,  except  those  lining  the  quays,  squalid. 
It  was  not  there,  however,  that  the  eye  would 
have  lingered.  Far  away,  seen  an  incredible 
distance  in  the  transparent  evening  atmosphere, 
Mont  Blanc  and  its  massed  group  of  snowy 
satellites  lifted  themselves  into  the  clouds.  All 
those  luminous  battlements  and  turrets  and 
pyramids  —  the  Mole,  the  Grandes  Jorasses,  the 
Aiguilles  du  Midi,  the  Dent  du  Geant,  the  Ai- 
guilles d'Argentiere —  were  now  suffused  with 
a  glow  so  magically  delicate  that  the  softest 
tint  of  the  blush  rose  would  have  seemed  harsh 
and  crude  in  comparison. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  Ill 

"  You  have  to  come  away  from  Mont  Blanc 
to  see  it,"  said  Flemming,  lowering  the  glass. 
"  When  I  had  my  nose  against  it  at  Chamouni 
I  did  n't  see  it  at  all.  It  overhung  me  and 
smothered  me.  Old  boy,"  —  reaching  up  his 
hand  to  Lynde  who  was  leaning  on  the  back 
of  the  chair,  —  "who  would  ever  have  thought 
that  we  two" —  Flemming  stopped  short  and 
looked  earnestly  into  his  comrade's  face.  "  Why, 
Ned,  I  did  n't  notice  how  thin  and  pale  you 
are.  Are  you  ill  ?  " 

The  color  which  had  mantled  Lynde's  cheeks 
in  the  first  surprise  and  pleasure  of  meeting 
his  friend  had  passed  away,  leaving,  indeed,  a 
somewhat  haggard  expression  on  the  young 
man's  countenance. 

"  111  ?    Not  that  I  know." 

"  Is  anything  wrong  ?  " 

"  There  is  nothing  wrong,"  replied  Lynde, 
with  some  constraint.  "  That  is  to  say,  noth- 
ing very  wrong.  For  a  month  or  six  weeks  I 
have  been  occupied  with  a  matter  that  has 


112  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

rather  unsettled  me,  —  more,  perhaps,  than  I 
ought  to  have  allowed." 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  It  does  n't  signify.  Don't  let  's  speak  of 
it." 

"  But  it  does  signify.  You  are  keeping  some- 
thing serious  from  me.  Out  with  it." 

"Well,  the  truth  is,"  said  Lynde  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  "  it  is  something  serious 
and  nothing  very  positive :  that 's  the  perplex- , 
ing  part  of  it." 

"  You  are  not  making  it  clear  to  me." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  can,  Flemming." 

"  Try,  then." 

Lynde  reflected  a  few  seconds,  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  remote  mountain  lines  impercepti- 
bly melting  into  the  twilight.  "  Do  you  remem- 
ber our  walk  home  from  the  theatre,  one  night, 
two  or  three  days  before  you  sailed  from  New 
York  ?  " 

"Perfectly,"  replied  Flemming. 

"  Do  you  recollect  my  telling  you  of  a  queer 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  113 

thing  that  happened  to  me  up  in  the  New 
Hampshire  hills  ?  " 

"  Your  encounter  with  the  little  lunatic  ? 
Perfectly." 

"  Don't !  "  said  Lynde,  shrinking  as  if  some 
sharp  instrument  had  pierced  him.  "  She  is 
here !  " 

"  Here  !  "  exclaimed  Memming,  half  rising 
from  the  chair,  and  glancing  towards  a  draped 
door  which  connected  the  suite  of  apartments. 

"  Not  in  these  rooms,"  said  Lynde,  with  a 
short  laugh,  "  but  in  Geneva,  —  in  this  hotel." 

"  You  do  not  mean  it." 

"  When  I  say  it  is  she,  I  'm  not  sure  of  it." 

"  Of  course  it  is  n't." 

"  That  's  what  I  say,  and  the  next  moment 
I  know  it  is." 

"  And  is  this  your  trouble  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Lynde,  knitting  his  brows. 
"  I  felt  that  I  should  n't  make  it  clear  to 
you." 

"  I   am   afraid   you   have  n't,   Ned.      What 


114  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

earthly  difference  does  it  make  to  you  whether 
or  not  it 's  the  same  girl  ?  " 

"  What  difference  !  "  cried  Lynde,  impetu- 
ously ;  "  what  difference,  —  when  I  love  the 
very  ground  she  walks  on ! " 

"  O,  you  love  her !     Which  one  ?  " 

"  Don't  laugh  at  me,  Flemming." 

"  I  am  not  laughing,"  said  Flemming,  look- 
ing puzzled  and  anxious.  "  It  is  not  possible, 
Ned,  you  have  allowed  yourself  to  go  and  get 
interested  in  a  —  a  person  not  right  in  her 
mind ! " 

"  Miss  Denham  is  as  sane  as  you  are." 

"  Then  Miss  —  Denham,  is  it  ?  —  cannot  be 
the  girl  you  told  me  about." 

"  That  's  the  point." 

"  I  don't  see  why  there  should  be  any  con- 
fusion on  that  point." 

"Don't  you?" 

"  Come>  let  us  go  to  the  bottom  of  this.  You 
have  fallen  in  with  a  woman  in  Switzerland, 
and  you  suspect  her  of  being  a  girl  you  met 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  115 

years  ago  in  New  Hampshire  under  circum- 
stances which  render  her  appearance  here  nearly 
an  impossibility.  As  I  am  not  a  man  of  vivid 
imagination,  that  floors  me.  What  makes  you 
think  them  identical  ?  " 

"  A  startling  personal  resemblance,  age,  in- 
flection of  voice,  manner,  even  a  certain  phy- 
sical peculiarity,  —  a  scar." 

"  Then  what  makes  you  doubt  ?  " 

"  Everything." 

"  Well,  that 's  comprehensive,  at  all  events." 

"  The  very  fact  of  her  being  here.  The  phy- 
sician at  the  asylum  said  that  that  girl's  malady 
was  hopeless.  Miss  Denham  has  one  of  the 
clearest  intellects  I  ever  knew ;  she  is  a  lin- 
guist, an  accomplished  musician,  and,  what  is 
more  rare,  a  girl  who  has  moved  a  great  deal 
in  society,  or,  at  least,  has  travelled  a  great 
deal,  and  has  not  ceased  to  be  an  unaffected, 
fresh,  candid  girl." 

"An  American?" 

"  Of  course  ;   did  n't  I  say  so  ?  " 


116  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

"  The  other  may  have  been  a  sister,  then,  or 
a  cousin,"  suggested  Flemming.  "  That  would 
account  for  the  likeness,  which  possibly  you 
exaggerate.  It  was  in  1872,  was  n't  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  all  over  that.  Miss  Denham 
is  an  only  child;  she  never  had  a  cousin.  To- 
day she  is  precisely  what  the  other  would  have 
been,  with  restored  health  and  three  years  added 
to  her  seventeen  or  eighteen." 

"  Upon  my  word,  Ned,  this  is  one  of  the 
oddest  things  I  ever  heard.  I  feel,  though, 
that  you  have  got  yourself  into  an  unnecessary 
snarl.  Where  does  Miss  Denham  come  from  ? 
She  is  not  travelling  alone  ?  How  did  you  meet 
her  ?  Tell  me  the  entire  story." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  tell,  or  next  to  noth- 
ing. I  met  the  Denhams  here,  six  weeks  ago. 
It  was  at  the  table  d'hote.  Two  ladies  came 
in  and  took  places  opposite  me,  —  a  middle-aged 
lady  and  a  young  one.  I  did  not  notice  them 
until  they  were  seated ;  it  was  the  voice  of  the 
younger  lady  that  attracted  me  ;  I  looked  up,  -  — 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  117 

and  there  was  the  Queen  of  Sheba.  The  same 
eyes,  the  same  hair,  the  same  face,  though  not 
so  pale,  and  fuller ;  the  same  form,  only  the 
contours  filled  out.  I  put  down  my  knife  and 
fork  and  stared  at  her.'  She  flushed,  for  I 
fancy  I  stared  at  her  rather  rudely,  and  a  faint 
mark,  like  a  star,  came  into  her  cheek  and 
faded.  I  saw  it  as  distinctly  as  I  saw  it  the 
day  she  passed  me  on  the  country  road,  swing- 
ing the  flower  in  her  hand." 

"By  Jove!  it's  a  regular  romance,  —  straw- 
berry mark  and  all." 

"  If  you  don't  take  this  seriously,"  said  Lynde, 
frowning,  "  I  am  done." 

"  Go  on." 

"  I  shall  never  know  how  I  got  through  the 
endless  courses  of  that  dinner ;  it  was  an  empty 
pantomime  on  my  part.  As  soon  as  it  was  over 
I  rushed  to  the  hotel  register.  The  only  entry 
among  the  new  arrivals  which  pointed  to  the 
two  ladies  was  that  of  Mrs.  William  Denham 
and  Niece,  United  States.  You  can  understand, 


118  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

Flemming,  how  I  was  seized  with  a  desire  to 
know  those  two  women.  I  had  come  to  Geneva 
for  a  day  or  so ;  but  I  resolved  to  stay  here  a 
month  if  they  stayed,  or  to  leave  the  next  hour 
if  they  left.  In  short,  I  meant  to  follow  them 
discreetly;  it  was  an  occupation  for  me.  They 
remained.  In  the  course  of  a  week  I  knew 
the  Denhams  to  speak  to  them  when  we  met 
of  a  morning  in  the  English  Garden.  A  fort- 
night later  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  known 
them  half  my  life.  They  had  come  across  the 
previous  November,  they  had  wintered  in  Italy, 
and  were  going  to  Chamouni  some  time  in 
July,  where  Mr.  Denham  was  to  join  them ; 
then  they  were  to  make  an  extended  tour  of 
Switzerland,  accompanied  by  an  old  friend  of 
the  family,  a  professor,  or  a  doctor,  or  some- 
thing, who  was  in  the  south  of  France  for  his 
health.  Miss  Denham  —  her  name  is  Ruth  — 
is  an  orphan,  and  was  educated  mostly  over 
here.  When  the  Deuhams  are  at  home  they 
live  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood  of  Orange, 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  119 

New  Jersey.  There  are  all  the  simple,  exasper- 
ating facts.  I  can  add  nothing  to  them.  If  I 
were  to  tell  you  how  this  girl  has  perplexed  and 
distressed  me,  by  seeming  to  be  and  seeming  not 
to  be  that  other  person,  —  how  my  doubts  and 
hopes  have  risen  and  fallen  from  day  to  day, 
even  from  hour  to  hour, —  it  would  be  as  uninter- 
esting to  you  as  a  barometrical  record.  But 
this  is  certain:  when  Miss  Denham  and  I  part  at 
Chamouni,  as  I  suppose  we  shall,  this  world  will 
have  come  to  an  end  so  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

"  The  world  does  n't  come  to  an  end  that 
way, —  when  one  is  twenty-six.  Does  she  like 
you,  Ned  ? " 

"  How  can  I  say  ?  She  does  not  dislike  me. 
We  have  seen  very  much  of  each  other.  We 
have  been  together  some  portion  of  each  day 
for  more  than  a  month.  But  I  've  never  had 
her  a  moment  alone  ;  the  aunt  is  always  present. 
We  are  like  old  friends,  —  with  a  difference." 

"  I  see ;  the  aunt  makes  the  difference !  No 
flirting  allowed  on  the  premises." 


120  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

"  Miss  Denham  is  not  a  girl  to  flirt  with  ;  she 
is  very  self-possessed,  with  just  a  suspicion  of 
haughtiness ;  personally,  tall,  slight,  a  sort 
of  dusky  Eastern  beauty,  with  the  clear  warm 
colors  of  a  New  England  September  twilight, 
—  not  like  the  brunettes  on  this  side,  who  are 
apt  to  have  thick  complexions,  saving  their 
presence.  I  say  she  is  not  a  girl  to  flirt  with, 
and  yet,  with  that  sensitive-cut  mouth  and 
those  deep  eyes,  she  could  do  awful  things  in 
the  way  of  tenderness  if  she  had  a  mind  to. 
She  's  a  puzzle,  with  her  dove's  innocence  and 
her  serpent's  wisdom.  All  women  are  prob- 
lems. I  suppose  every  married  man  of  us 
goes  down  to  his  grave  with  his  particular 
problem  not  quite  solved." 

Flemming  gave  a  loud  laugh.  The  "  every 
married  man  of  us  "  tickled  him.  "  Yes,"  said 
he ;  "  they  are  all  daughters  of  the  Sphinx, 
and  past  finding  out.  Is  Miss  Denham  an  in- 
valid ?  "  he  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"  No  ;   she  is  not  strong,  —  delicate,  rather ; 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  121 

of  the  pure  type  of  American  young-woman- 
hood,—  more  spirit  than  physique;  but  not  an 
invalid,  —  unless  "  — 

"  You  have  let  a  morbid  fancy  run  away 
with  you,  Ned.  This  lady  and  the  other  one 
are  two  different  persons." 

"  If  I  could  only  believe  it !  "  said  Lynde. 
"  I  do  believe  it  at  times  ;  then  some  gesture, 
some  fleeting  expression,  a  turn  of  the  head, 
the  timbre  of  her  voice,  —  and  there  she  is 
again  !  The  next  moment  I  am  ready  to  laugh 
at  myself." 

"  Could  n't  you  question  the  aunt  ?  " 

"  How  could  I  ?  " 

"  You  could  n't !  " 

"  I  have  thought  of  that  doctor  at  the  asy- 
lum, —  what  in  the  devil  was  his  name  ?  I 
might  write  to  him  ;  but  I  shrink  from  doing 
it.  I  have  been  brutal  enough  in  other  ways. 
I  am  ashamed  to  confess  to  what  unforgivable 
expedients  I  have  resorted  to  solve  my  uncer- 
tainty. Once  we  were  speaking  of  Genoa, 


122  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

where  the  Denhams  had  spent  a  week ;  I 
turned  the  conversation  on  the  Church  of  St. 
Lorenzo  and  the  relic  in  the  treasury  there, — 
the  Sacro  Catino,  a  supposed  gift  to  Solomon 
from  the  Queen  of  Sheba.  Miss  Denhain  lis- 
tened with  the  calmest  interest ;  she  had  not 
seen  it  the  day  she  visited  the  church ;  she 
was  sorry  to  have  missed  that.  Then  the  aunt 
changed  the  subject,  but  whether  by  accident 
or  design  I  was  unable  for  the  soul  of  me  to 
conjecture.  Good  God,  Flemming  !  could  this 
girl  have  had  some  terrible,  swift  malady  which 
touched  her  and  passed,  and  still  hangs  over 
her,  —  an  hereditary  doom  ?  " 

"  Then  she  's  the  most  artful  actress  that 
ever  lived,  I  should  say.  The  leading  lady  of 
the  Theatre  Francois  might  go  and  take  les- 
sons of  her.  But  if  that  were  so,  Ned  ?  " 

"  If  that  were  so,"  said  Lynde,  slowly,  "  a 
great  pity  would  be  added  to  my  love." 

"  You  would  not  marry  her  !  " 

Lynde  made  no  reply. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  123 

The  night  had  settled  down  upon  Geneva 
while  the  friends  were  talking.  The  room  was 
so  dark  they  could  not  distinguish  each  other ; 
but  Flemming  was  conscious  of  a  pale,  set  face 
turned  towards  him  in  the  obscurity,  in  the 
same  way  that  he  was  conscious  of  the  forlorn 
whiteness  of  Mont  Blanc  looming  up  out  yon- 
der, unseen.  It  was  dark  in  the  chamber,  but 
the  streets  were  gay  now  with  the  life  of  a 
midsummer  night.  Interminable  lines  of  lamps 
twinkled  on  the  bridges  and  along  the  quays ; 
the  windows  of  the  cafes  on  the  opposite  bank 
of  the  Rhone  were  brilliant  with  gas  jets ;  boats, 
bearing  merry  cargoes  to  and  from  the  lake, 
passed  up  and  down  the  river;  the  street  run- 
ning under  the  hotel  balcony  was  crowded  with 
loungers,  and  a  band  was  playing  in  the  Eng- 
lish Garden.  From  time  to  time  a  strain  of 
music  floated  up  to  the  window  where  the  two 
men  were  sitting.  Neither  had  spoken  for 
some  minutes,  when  Lynde  asked  his  friend 
where  he  was  staying. 


124  THE  QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

"  At  the  Schweizerhof,"  replied  Flemming. 
"  I  always  take  the  hotel  nearest  the  station. 
Few  Americans  go  there,  I  fancy.  It  is  won- 
derfully and  fearfully  Swiss.  I  was  strolling 
in  here  to  look  through  the  register  for  some 
American  autographs  when  I  ran  against  you." 

"  You  had  better  bring  your  traps  over  here." 

"  It  would  not  be  worth  while.  I  am  booked 
for  Paris  to-morrow  night.  Ned,  —  come  with 
me!" 

"  I  can't,  Flemming ;  I  have  agreed  to  go  to 
Chamouni  with  the  Denhams." 

"Don't!" 

"  That  is  like  advising  a  famishing  man  not 
to  eat  his  last  morsel  of  food.  I  have  a  pre- 
sentiment it  will  all  end  there.  I  never  had  a 
presentiment  before." 

"  I  had  a  presentiment  once,"  said  Flem- 
ming, impressively.  "  I  had  a  presentiment 
that  a  certain  number  —  it  was  number  twenty- 
seven —  would  draw  the  prize  in  a  certain  lot- 
tery. I  went  to  the  office,  and  number  twenty- 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  125 

seven  was  one  of  the  two  numbers  unsold!  I 
bought  it  as  quick  as  lightning,  I  dreamed  of 
number  twenty-seven  three  successive  nights, 
and  the  next  day  it  drew  a  blank." 

"  That  has  the  ring  of  the  old  Flemming ! " 
cried  Lynde,  with  an  unforced  laugh.  "  I  am 
glad  that  I  have  not  succeeded  in  turning  all 
your  joyous  gold  into  lead.  I  'm  not  always 
such  dull  company  as  I  have  been  to-night, 
with  my  moods  and  my  presentiments.  I  owe 
them  partly,  perhaps,  to  not  seeing  Miss  Den- 
ham  to-day,  the  aunt  having  a  headache." 

"  You  were  not  in  a  rollicking  humor  when 
I  picked  you  up." 

"  I  had  been  cruising  about  town  all  the 
morning  alone,  making  assaults  on  the  Musee 
Pol,  the  Botanic  Garden,  and  the  Jewish  Syna- 
gogue. In  the  afternoon  I  had  wrecked  myself 
on  Rousseau's  Island,  where  I  sat  on  a  bench 
staring  at  Pradier's  poor  statue  of  Jean  Jacques 
until  I  fancied  that  the  ugly  bronze  cannibal 
was  making  mouths  at  me.  When  the  aunt 


126  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

has  a  headache,  /  suffer.     Flemming,  you  must 
see  Miss  Denham,  if  only  for  a  moment." 
"  Of  course  I  should  like  to  see  her,  Ned." 
"  You   do   not  leave   until    evening,"    Lynde 
said,   reflecting.      "  I   think  I   can   manage  a 
little  dinner  for  to-morrow.     Now  let  us  take 
a  breath  of  fresh  air.      I  know  the  queerest 
old   nook,  in  the   Rue   de  Chantpoulet,   where 
the  Bavarian  beer  is  excellent  and  all  the  eom- 
pany  smoke  the  most  enormous  porcelain  pipes. 
Have  n't  I  hit  one  of  your  weaknesses  ?  " 
"  You  have  hit  a  brace ! " 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  127 


vn. 

THE   DENHAMS. 

"TTTHEN  Edward  Lynde  returned  to  the 
hotel  that  night,  after  parting  with 
Flemming  at  the  head  of  a  crooked,  gable-hung 
street  leading  to  the  Schweizerhof,  the  young 
man  regretted  that  he  had  said  anything  on 
the  subject  of  the  Denhams,  or,  rather,  that  he 
had  spoken  of  the  painful  likeness  which  had 
haunted  him  so  persistently.  The  friends  had 
spent  the  gayest  of  evenings  together  at  a 
small  green-topped  table  in  one  corner  of  the 
smoky  cafe.  Over  their  beer  and  cheese  they 
had  chatted  of  old  days  at  boarding-school  and 
college,  and  this  contact  with  the  large,  healthy 
nature  of  Flemming,  which  threw  off  depression 
as  sunshine  dissipates  mist,  had  sent  Lynde's 
vapors  flying.  Nothing  was  changed  in  the  cir- 


128  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

cumstances  that  had  distressed  him,  yet  some 
way  a  load  had  removed  itself  from  his  bosom. 
He  was  sorry  he  had  mentioned  that  dark  busi- 
ness at  all.  As  he  threaded  the  deserted 
streets,  —  it  was  long  after  midnight,  —  he 
planned  a  dinner  to  be  given  in  his  rooms  the 
next  day,  and  formulated  a  note  of  invitation 
to  the  ladies,  which  he  would  write  when  he 
got  back  to  the  hotel,  and  have  in  readiness 
for  early  delivery  in  the  morning. 

Lynde  was  in  one  of  those  lightsome  moods 
which,  in  that  varying  month,  had  not  unfre- 
quently  followed  a  day  of  doubt  and  restless 
despondency.  As  he  turned  into  the  Quai  des 
Bergues  he  actually  hummed  a  bar  or  two  of 
opera.  He  had  not  done  that  before  in  six 
weeks.  They  had  been  weeks  of  inconceivable 
torment  and  pleasure  to  Lynde. 

He  had  left  home  while  still  afflicted  bj 
David  Lynde's  death.  Since  the  uncle's  ill- 
advised  marriage  the  intercourse  between  them, 
as  the  reader  knows,  had  all  but  ceased ;  they 


THE    QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  129 

had  met  only  once,  and  then  as  if  to  bid  each 
other  farewell ;  but  the  ties  had  been  very 
close,  after  all.  In  the  weeks  immediately  fol- 
lowing his  guardian's  death,  the  young  man, 
occupied  with  settling  the  estate,  of  which  he 
was  one  of  the  executors,  scarcely  realized  his 
loss ;  but  when  he  returned  to  Bivermouth  a 
heavy  sense  of  loneliness  came  over  him.  The 
crowded,  happy  firesides  to  which  he  was  free 
seemed  to  reproach  him  for  his  lack  of  kinship ; 
he  stood  alone  in  the  world ;  there  was  no 
more  reason  why  he  should  stay  in  one  place 
than  in  another.  His  connection  with  the 
bank,  unnecessary  now  in  a  money  point  of 
view,  grew  irksome;  the  quietude  of  the  town 
oppressed  him ;  he  determined  to  cut  adrift 
from  all  and  go  abroad.  An  educated  Amer- 
ican with  no  deeper  sorrow  than  Lynde's  can- 
not travel  through  Europe,  for  the  first  time  at 
least,  with  indifference.  Three  months  in  Ger- 
many and  France  began  in  Lynde  a  cure  which 
was  completed  by  a  winter  in  Southern  Italy. 


130  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

He  had  regained  his  former  elasticity  of  spirits 
and  was  taking  life  with  a  relish,  when  he 
went  to  Geneva ;  there  he  fell  in  with  the  Den- 
hams  in  the  manner  he  described  to  Memming. 
An  habitual  shyness,  and  perhaps  a  doubt  of 
Flemming's  sympathetic  capacity,  had  prevented 
Lynde  from  giving  his  friend  more  than  an  out- 
line of  the  situation.  In  his  statement  Lynde 
had  omitted  several  matters  which  may  prop- 
erly be  set  down  here. 

That  first  day  at  the  table  d'h6te  and  the 
next  day,  when  he  was  able  more  deliberately 
to  study  the  young  woman,  Edward  Lynde  had 
made  no  question  to  himself  as  to  her  being 
the  same  person  he  had  seen  in  so  different 
and  so  pathetic  surroundings.  It  was  unmis- 
takably the  same.  He  had  even  had  a  vague 
apprehension  she  might  recognize  him,  and  had 
been  greatly  relieved  to  observe  that  there  was 
no  glimmer  of  recognition  in  the  well-bred, 
careless  glance  which  swept  him  once  or 
twice.  No,  he  had  passed  out  of  her  memory, 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA,  131 

—  with  the  other  shapes  and  shadows!  How 
strange  they  should  meet  again,  thousands  of 
miles  from  New  England ;  how  strange  that  he 
alone,  of  all  the  crowded  city,  should  know 
there  had  been  a  dark  episode  in  this  girl's 
history !  What  words  she  had  spoken  to  him 
and  forgotten,  she  who  now  sat  there  robed  in 
the  beauty  of  her  reason ! 

It  was  a  natural  interest,  and  a  deep  inter- 
est, certainly,  that  impelled  Lynde  to  seek  the 
acquaintance  of  the  two  ladies.  On  the  third 
day  a  chance  service  rendered  the  elder  —  she 
had  left  a  glove  or  a  handkerchief  beside  her 
plate  at  table,  and  Lynde  had  followed  her  with 
it  from  the  dining-room  —  placed  him  upon 
speaking  terms.  They  were  his  country-women, 
he  was  a  gentleman,  and  the  surface  ice  was 
easily  broken.  Three  days  afterwards  Lynde 
found  himself  oddly  doubting  his  first  convic- 
tion. This  was  not  that  girl !  The  likeness 
was  undeniable :  the  same  purple -black  hair, 
the  same  long  eyelashes,  a  very  distinctive  fea- 


132  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

ture.  In  voice  and  carriage,  too,  Miss  Denham 
curiously  recalled  the  other ;  and  that  mark  on 
Miss  Denham's  cheek  —  a  birth-mark  —  was  sin- 
gular enough.  But  there  the  analogies  ended. 
Miss  Denham  was  a  young  woman  who  ob- 
viously had  seen  much  of  the  world ;  she  pos- 
sessed accomplishments  which  could  have  been 
acquired  only  by  uninterrupted  application ;  she 
spoke  French,  German,  and  Italian  with  unusual 
purity.  That  intellect,  as  strong  and  clear  as 
crystal,  could  never  have  suffered  even  a  tem- 
porary blur.  He  was  beginning  to  be  amazed 
at  the  blunder  he  had  committed,  when  sud- 
denly, one  evening,  a  peculiar  note  in  her 
voice,  accompanied  by  a  certain  lifting  of  the 
eyelashes,  —  a  movement  he  had  noticed  for 
the  first  time,  but  which  was  familiar  to  him, 
—  threw  Lynde  into  great  perplexity.  It  was 
that  other  girl !  How  useless  for  him  to  try 
to  blind  himself  to  the  truth !  Besides,  why 
should  he  wish  to,  and  why  should  the  fact 
of  the  identity  trouble  him  to  such  a  degree  ? 


THE    QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  133 

The  next  day  he  was  staggered  by  Miss  Den- 
ham  alluding  incidentally  to  the  circumstance 
that  she  and  her  aunt  had  passed  a  part  of 
the  spring  of  1872  in  Florida.  That  was  the 
date  of  Lynde's  adventure,  the  spring  of  1872. 
Here  was  almost  positive  proof  that  Miss  Den- 
ham  could  not  have  been  in  New  England  at 
the  time.  Lynde  did  not  know  what  to  think. 
Of  course  he  was  mistaken ;  he  must  be  mis- 
taken,—  and  yet!  There  were  moments  when 
he  could  not  look  at  Miss  Denham  without  half 
expecting  to  see  the  man  Blaisdell  flitting  some- 
where in  the  background.  Then  there  were 
days  when  it  was  impossible  for  Lynde  to  pic- 
ture her  as  anything  different  from  what  she 
now  was.  But  whatever  conclusion  he  came 
to,  a  doubt  directly  insinuated  itself. 

While  he  was  drifting  from  one  uncertainty 
to  another,  a  fortnight  elapsed  in  which  his  in- 
timacy with  the  Denhams  had  daily  increased. 
They  were  in  Geneva  for  an  indefinite  time, 
awaiting  directions  from  Mr.  Denham.  The 


134  THE   QUEEN   OF  SHEBA. 

few  sights  in  the  city  had  been  exhausted ;  the 
places  of  interest  in  the  environs  could  not  be 
visited  by  ladies  without  escort;  so  it  fell  out 
that  Lynde  accompanied  the  Denhams  on  sev- 
eral short  excursions,  —  to  Petit  and  Grand 
Sacconnex,  to  the  Villa  Tronchin,  to  Pregny 
and  Mornex.  These  were  days  which  Lynde 
marked  with  a  red  letter.  At  the  end  of  the 
month,  however,  he  was  in  the  same  state  of 
distressing  indecision  relative  to  Miss  Denham. 
On  one  point  he  required  no  light,  —  he  was 
deeply  interested  in  her,  so  deeply,  indeed,  that 
it  had  become  a  question  affecting  all  his  future, 
whether  or  not  she  was  the  person  he  had  en- 
countered on  his  horseback  journey  three  years 
before.  If  she  was  — 

But  Edward  Lynde  had  put  the  question  out 
of  his  thought  that  night  as  he  walked  home 
from  the  cafe".  His  two  bars  of  opera  music 
lasted  him  to  the  hotel  steps.  Though  it  was 
late,  —  a  great  bell  somewhere,  striking  two, 
sent  its  rich  reverberation  across  the  lake  while 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  135 

he  was  unlocking  his  chamber  door,  —  Lynde 
seated  himself  at  a  table  and  wrote  his  note 
to  the  Denhams. 

Flemming  had  promised  to  come  and  take 
coffee  with  him  early  the  next  morning,  that 
is  to  say  at  nine  o'clock.  Before  Flemming 
arrived,  Lynde' s  invitation  had  been  dispatched 
and  accepted.  He  was  re-reading  Miss  Den- 
ham's  few  lines  of  acceptance  when  he  heard 
his  friend,  at  the  other  end  of  the  hall,  ap- 
proaching with  great  strides. 

"  The  thousandth  part  of  a  minute  late ! " 
cried  Flemming,  throwing  open  the  door. 
"  There  's  no  excuse  for  me.  When  a  man 
lives  in  a  city  where  they  manufacture  a  hun- 
dred thousand  watches  a  year,  —  that  's  one 
watch  and  a  quarter  every  five  minutes  day 
and  night,  —  it  's  a  moral  duty  to  be  punctual. 
Ned,  you  look  like  a  prize  pink  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  I  have  had  such  a  sleep !  Besides,  I  've 
just  gone  through  the  excitement  of  laying  out 


136  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

the  menu  for  our  dinner.  Good  heavens,  I 
forgot  the  flowers !  We  '11  go  and  get  them 
after  breakfast.  There  's  your  coffee.  Cream, 
old  man  ?  I  am  in  a  tremor  over  this  dinner, 
you  know.  It  is  a  maiden  effort.  By  the 
way,  Flemming,  I  wish  you  'd  forget  what  I 
said  about  Miss  Denham,  last  evening.  I  was 
all  wrong." 

"  I  told  you  so ;  what  has  happened  ?  " 

**  Nothing.  Only  I  have  reconsidered  the 
matter,  and  I  see  I  was  wrong  to  let  it  upset 
me." 

"  I  saw  that  from  the  first." 

"  Some  people,"  said  Lynde,  gayly,  "  always 
see  everything  from  the  first.  You  belong  to 
the  I-told-you-so  family,  only  you  belong  to  the 
cheerful  branch." 

"  Thank  the  Lord  for  that !  A  wide-spread- 
ing, hopeful  disposition  is  your  only  true  um- 
brella in  this  vale  of  tears." 

"  I  shall  have  to  borrow  yours,  then,  if  it 
rains  heavily,  for  I  've  none  of  my  own." 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  137 

"  Take  it,  my  boy ;  my  name  's  on  the  han- 
dle ! " 

On  finishing  their  coffee  the  young  men 
lighted  cigars  and  sallied  forth  for  a  stroll 
along  the  bank  of  the  river,  which  they  fol- 
lowed to  the  confluence  of  the  Rhone  with  the 
Arve,  stopping  on  the  way  to  leave  an  order 
at  a  florist's.  Returning  to  the  hotel  some 
time  after  mid -day,  they  found  the  flowers 
awaiting  them  in  Lynde's  parlor,  where  a  ser- 
vant was  already  laying  the  cloth.  There  were 
bouquets  for  the  ladies'  plates,  an  imposing 
centre-piece  in  the  shape  of  a  pyramid,  and  a 
profusion  of  loose  flowers. 

"What  shall  we  do  with  these?"  asked 
Lynde,  pointing  to  the  latter. 

"  Set  'em  around  somewhere,"  said  Flemming, 
with  cheerful  vagueness. 

Lynde  disposed  the  flowers  around  the  room 
to  the  best  of  his  judgment;  he  hung  some 
among  the  glass  pendents  of  the  chandelier, 
gave  a  nosegay  to  each  of  the  two  gilt  stat- 


138  THE    QUEEN    OF   SHEBA. 

uettes  in  the  corners,  and  piled  the  remainder 
about  the  base  of  a  monumental  clock  on  the 
mantel-piece. 

"  That  's  rather  a  pretty  idea,  is  n't  it  ?  — 
wreathing  Time  in  flowers,"  remarked  Flem- 
ming,  with  honest  envy  of  his  friend's  pro- 
founder  depth  of  poetic  sentiment. 

"  I  thought  it  rather  neat,"  said  Lynde,  who 
had  not  thought  of  it  all. 

In  the  course  of  that  dinner  if  two  or  three 
unexplained  demure  smiles  flitted  over  Miss 
Denham's  face,  they  might,  perhaps,  have  been 
indirectly  traced  to  these  floral  decorations, 
though  they  pleased  her  more  than  if  a  woman's 
hand  had  been  visible  in  them. 

"Flemming,"  said  Lynde,  with  a  severe 
aesthetic  air,  "  I  don't  think  that  arrangement 
in  the  fireplace  is  quite  up  to  the  rest  of  the 
room." 

"  Nor  I  either,"  said  Flemming,  who  had  been 
silently  admiring  it  for  the  last  ten  minutes. 

The  fire-place   in   question  was   stuffed  with 


THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA.  139 

a  quantity  of  long,  delicately  spiral  shavings, 
sprinkled  with  silver  spangles  or  flakes  of  isin- 
glass, and  covered  by  a  piece  of  pale  blue  illu- 
sion. This  device  —  peculiarly  Genevese —  was 
supposed  to  represent  a  waterfall. 

"  Take  a  match  and  touch  it  off,"  suggested 
Flcmming. 

"If  we  had  some  more  flowers,  now "  — 

"  Exactly.  I  am  going  to  the  hotel  to  get 
myself  up  like  a  head- waiter,  and  I  '11  bring 
some  when  I  come  back." 

In  an  hour  afterwards  Flemming  reappeared, 
followed  by  a  youth  bearing  an  immense  basket. 
Lynde  removed  the  Alpine  waterfall  to  an  ad- 
joining chamber,  and  built  up  a  huge  fire  of 
flame-colored  flowers  in  the  grate.  The  two 
friends  were  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  gravely  contemplating  the  effect,  when  a 
servant  opened  the  door  and  announced  Mrs. 
and  Miss  Denham.  A  rustle  of  drapery  at  the 
threshold  was  followed  by  the  entrance  of  the 
two  ladies  in  ceremonious  dinner  toilets. 


140  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

Lynde  had  never  seen  Miss  Denham  K  any 
but  a  dark  travelling-dress,  or  in  such  unobtru- 
sive costume  as  a  modest  girl  may  wear  at  a 
hotel  table.  He  stood  motionless  an  instant, 
seeing  her  in  a  trailing  robe  of  some  fleecy, 
maize-colored  material,  with  a  cluster  of  moss- 
roses  at  her  corsage  and  a  cross  of  diamonds 
at  her  throat.  She  was  without  other  orna- 
ment. The  shade  of  her  dress  made  her  hair 
and  eyes  and  complexion  wonderful.  Lynde 
was  proud  to  have  her  look  like  that  for  Flem- 
ming,  though  he  was  himself  affected  by  a  queer 
impression  that  this  queenly  young  person  was 
not  the  simple,  lovely  girl  he  had  known  all 
along.  He  was  embarrassed  by  her  unexpected 
elegance,  but  he  covered  his  embarrassment  and 
his  pleasure  by  presenting  his  friend  to  the 
ladies,  and  ordering  the  servant  to  serve  the 
dinner  immediately. 

Lynde's  constraint  was  only  momentary,  and 
the  others  had  experienced  none.  Fleimning, 
indeed,  had  a  fleeting  surprise  at  finding  in 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  141 

the  aunt  a  woman  of  thirty-five  or  thirty-eight, 
in  the  Indian  summer  of  her  beauty.  Lynde 
had  given  him  the  idea  of  an  elderly  person 
with  spectacles.  As  to  Miss  Denham,  she  had 
not  fallen  short  of  the  mental  picture  Flem- 
ming  had  drawn  of  her,  —  which  ought  to  have 
surprised  him.  No  charms  or  graces  in  a 
woman,  however,  could  much  surprise  Plem- 
ming;  he  accepted  them  as  matters  of  course; 
to  him  all  women  were  charming  in  various 
degrees.  He  had  that  general  susceptibility 
which  preserves  us  the  breed  of  bachelors. 
The  constant  victim  of  a  series  of  minor  emo- 
tions, he  was  safe  from  any  major  passion. 
There  was  a  certain  chivalrous  air  of  cama- 
raderie in  his  manner  to  women  which  made 
them  like  him  sooner  or  later ;  the  Denhams 
liked  him  instantly.  Even  before  the  potage 
was  removed,  Lynde  saw  that  his  dinner  was 
a  success.  "  The  cook  may  drop  dead  now,  if 
he  wants  to,"  said  Lynde  to  himself ;  "  he  can't 
spoil  anything." 


142  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

"  You  are  not  entirely  a  stranger  to  us,  Mr. 
Flemming,"  said  Mrs.  Denham,  looking  at  him 
from  behind  the  floral  pyramid,  which  had  the 
happy  effect  of  isolating  the  parties  who  sat 
opposite  each  other.  "  There  is  a  person  who 
goes  about  foreign  lands  with  no  other  osten- 
sible mission  than  to  sound  your  praise. 

"  You  must  set  down  a  great  deal  to  filial 
gratitude,"  returned  Flemming.  "  I  have  been 
almost  a  father  to  our  young  friend." 

"  He  tells  me  that  your  being  here  is  quite 
accidental." 

"  It  was  one  of  those  fortunate  things,  madam, 
which  sometimes  befall  undeserving  persons, 
as  if  to  refute  the  theory  of  a  special  provi- 
dence." 

"On  the  contrary,  Mr.  Flemming," — it  was 
Miss  Ruth  who  spoke,  — "  it  was  evidently  ar- 
ranged with  the  clearest  foresight;  for  if  you 
had  been  a  day  later,  perhaps  you  would  not 
have  found  your  friend  in  Geneva,  —  that  is,  if 
Mr.  Lynde  goes  with  us  to  Chamouni." 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  143 

"  You  have  heard  from  Mr.  Denham,  then  ?  " 
said  Lynde,  turning  to  the  aunt. 

"  We  had  letters  this  morning.  Mr.  Den- 
ham  is  in  Paris,  where  he  will  remain  a  week 
or  ten  days,  to  show  the  sights  to  an  old 
American  friend  of  ours  who  is  to  join  our 
party.  I  think  I  told  you,  Mr.  Lynde  ?  Sup- 
posing us  to  be  weary  of  Geneva  by  this  time, 
Mr.  Denham  suggests  that  we  go  on  to  Cha- 
mouni  and  wait  there.  I  have  left  the  matter 
to  Ruth,  and  she  decides  in  favor  of  leaving 
to-morrow,  if  the  weather  is  fine." 

"  We  are  not  tired  of  Geneva,"  said  Miss  Den- 
ham ;  "  it  would  be  ingratitude  to  Mr.  Lynde  to 
admit  that ;  but  we  are  longing  for  a  nearer  view 
of  the  Mont  Blanc  groups.  One  ought  to  know 
them  pretty  well  after  six  weeks'  constant  look- 
ing at  them ;  but  the  changes  in  the  atmosphere 
make  any  certain  intimacy  impossible  at  this 
distance.  New  ranges  loom  up  and  disappear, 
the  lines  alter  almost  every  hour.  Were  you 
ever  at  the  Isles  of  Shoals,  Mr.  Flemming  ? " 


144  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

Flemming  started  slightly.  Since  Miss  Den- 
ham  entered  the  room  he  had  given  scarcely  a 
thought  to  Lynde's  dismal  suspicions.  Once  or 
twice  they  had  come  into  Flemming's  mind,  but 
he  had  promptly  dismissed  them.  The  girl's 
inquiry  concerning  a  locality  in  New  Hamp- 
shire suddenly  recalled  them,  and  recalled  the 
motive  with  which  Lynde  had  planned  the  din- 
ner. Flemming  flushed  with  vexation  to  think 
he  had  lent  himself  to  the  arrangement. 

"  I  have  spent  parts  of  two  summers  at  the 
Isles  of  Shoals,"  he  said. 

"  Then  you  must  have  observed  the  singular 
changes  that  seem  to  take  place  on  the  main- 
land, seen  from  Appledore.  The  mirage  on  the 
Rye  and  Newcastle  coasts  —  is  it  Newcastle  ?  — 
sometimes  does  wonderful  things.  Frequently 
you  see  great  cities  stretching  along  the  beach, 
some  of  the  houses  rising  out  of  the  water,  as 
in  Venice,  only  they  are  gloomy,  foggy  cities, 
like  London,  and  not  like  Venice.  Another 
time  you  see  ships  sailing  by  upside  down ;  then 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  145 

it  is  a  chain  of  hills,  with  peaks  and  projec- 
tions that  melt  away  under  your  eyes,  leaving 
only  the  flat  coast-line." 

Flemming  had  seen  all  this,  and  seemed  again 
to  see  it  through  the  clear  medium  of  the  young 
girl's  words.  He  had  witnessed  similar  optical 
illusions  in  the  deserts,  also,  which  he  described 
to  her.  Then  Flemming  remembered  a  curious 
trick  of  refracted  light  he  had  once  seen  in  the 
sunrise  on  Mount  Washington,  and  suddenly  he 
found  himself  asking  Miss  Denham  if  she  were 
acquainted  with  the  interior  of  New  Hampshire. 
He  had  put  the  interrogation  without  a  shadow 
of  design ;  he  could  have  bitten  his  tongue  off 
an  instant  after. 

Lynde,  who  had  been  discussing  with  Mrs. 
Denham  the  details  of  the  next  day's  journey, 
looked  up  quickly  arid  sent  Flemming  a  rapid 
scowl. 

"  I  have  never  been  inland,"  was  Miss  Den- 
ham's  answer.  "  My  acquaintance  with  New 
Hampshire  is  limited  to  the  Shoals  and  the 


146  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

beaches  at  Rye  and  Hampton.  In  visiting  the 
Alps  first  I  have,  I  know,  been  very  impolite 
to  the  mountains  and  hills  of  my  own  land." 

"  Ruth,  dear,  Mr.  Lynde  and  I  have  been 
speaking  of  the  conveyance  for  to-morrow  ;  shall 
it  be  an  open  or  a  close  carriage?" 

"  An  open  carriage,  by  all  means,  aunt." 

"  That  would  have  its  inconvenience  in  case 
of  showers,"  said  Lynde ;  "  when  April  takes 
her  departure  from  the  Alps,  she  is  said  to 
leave  all  her  capriciousness  behind  her.  I  sug- 
gest a  partially  closed  vehicle ;  you  will  find  a 
covering  comfortable  in  either  rain  or  shine." 

"  Mr.  Lynde  thinks  of  everything,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Denham.  "He  should  not  allow  himself 
to  be  dictated  to  by  unforeseeing  woman." 

k<In  strict  confidence,  Mrs.  Denham,  I  will 
confess  that  I  have  arbitrarily  taken  this  busi- 
ness in  hand.  For  nearly  a  week,  now,  I  have 
had  my  eye  on  a  vehicle  that  must  have  been 
built  expressly  for  us ;  it  is  driven  by  a  tall, 
distinguished  person,  frosty  of  mustache  and 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  147 

affable  of  manner,  —  evidently  a  French  mar- 
quis in  disguise." 

"  What  an  adroit  fellow  Ned  is ! "  Flemming 
said  to  himself.  "  I  wonder  that  with  all  his 
cleverness  he  could  have  got  such  a  foolish 
notion  into  his  head  about  this  girl." 

"  We  must  have  the  French  marquis  at  any 
cost,"  said  Miss  Denham. 

"The  truth  is,"  remarked  Lynde,  "I  have 
secured  him." 

"  We  are  to  start  at  eight,  Ruth." 

"  Which  means  breakfast  at  seven.  Is  Mr. 
Lynde  equal  to  a  feat  like  that,  aunt  ? " 

"  As  I  intend  to  have  watchers  and  sit  up 
all  night,"  said  Lynde,  "  I  think  I  can  promise 
to  be  on  hand." 

This  matter  decided,  the  conversation,  which 
had  been  carried  on  mostly  in  duets,  became 
general.  Flemming  soon  recovered  from  the 
remorse  of  his  inadvertent  question,  or  rather 
from  his  annoyance  at  the  thought  that  possibly 
it  had  struck  Lynde  as  having  an  ulterior  motive. 


148  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

As  to  Lynde,  he  was  in  the  highest  humor. 
Miss  Denham  had  been  thoroughly  charming  to 
his  friend,  with  her  serious  and  candid  manner, 
—  a  manner  as  far  removed  from  reserve  as 
from  the  thin  vivacity  of  the  average  young 
woman  of  the  period.  Her  rare  smile  had  been 
finer  than  another's  laugh.  Flemming  himself 
went  as  near  to  falling  in  love  with  her  and 
the  aunt  as  his  loyalty  to  Lynde  and  the  sup- 
posed existence  of  a  Mr.  Denham  permitted. 

After  a  while  the  window  curtains  were 
drawn,  though  it  was  scarcely  dusk  without, 
and  candles  brought ;  then  the  ices  were  served, 
and  then  the  coffee ;  and  then  the  clock  on  the 
mantel-piece,  as  if  it  took  malicious  satisfaction 
in  the  fleetness  with  which  Time  (wreathed  in 
flowers)  slips  away  from  mortals,  set  up  a  sil- 
very chime  —  it  sounded  like  the  angelus  rung 
from  some  cathedral  in  the  distance  —  to  tell 
Flemming  that  his  hour  was  come.  He  had 
still  to  return  to  the  hotel  to  change  his  dress- 
suit  before  taking  the  train.  Mrs.  Denham  in- 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  149 

sisted  on  Lynde  accompanying  his  friend  to  the 
station,  though  Hemming  had  begged  that  he 
might  be  allowed  to  withdraw  without  disturb- 
ing the  party,  and  even  without  saying  fare- 
well. "  I  don't  recognize  good-bys,"  said  he ; 
"  there  are  too  many  sorrowful  partings  in  the 
world  already.  I  never  give  them  the  slightest 
encouragement."  But  the  ladies  persisted  in 
considering  the  dinner  at  an  end ;  then  the  two 
friends  conducted  the  Denhams  to  the  door  of 
their  own  parlor  and  there  took  leave  of  them. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Lynde  as  he  seated  himself 
beside  Flemming  in  the  carriage.  "  What  do 
you  think  of  her  ?  " 

"  An  unusually  agreeable  woman,"  returned 
Flemining,  carelessly.  "  She  is  thirty-eight,  she 
looks  twenty-six,  and  is  as  pleasant  as  nine- 
teen." 

"  I  mean  Miss  Denham !  " 

"  Ned,  I  don't  care  to  discuss  Miss  Denham. 
When  I  think  of  your  connecting  that  lovely 
lady  with  a  crazy  creature  you  met  somewhere 


150  THE    QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

or  other,  I  am  troubled  touching  your  intel- 
lect." 

"  But  I  do  not  any  longer  connect  her  with 
that  unfortunate  girl.  I  told  you  to  put  all 
that  out  of  your  mind." 

"  I  don't  find  it  easy  to  do,  Ned ;  it  is  so 
monstrous.  Was  not  this  dinner  an  arrange- 
ment for  me  to  see  Miss  Denham  and  in  some 
way  judge  her?  " 

"  No,  Flemming ;  there  was  a  moment  yester- 
day evening  when  I  had  some  such  wild  idea. 
I  had  grown  morbid  by  being  alone  all  day  and 
brooding  over  a  resemblance  which  I  have  not 
been  able  to  prevent  affecting  me  disagreeably 
at  intervals.  This  resemblance  does  not  exist 
for  you,  and  you  have  not  been  subtile  enough 
to  put  yourself  in  my  place.  However,  all  that 
is  past ;  it  shall  not  disturb  me  in  future. 
When  I  invited  the  Denhams  to  this  dinner  it 
was  solely  that  I  might  present  you  to  the 
woman  I  shall  marry  if  she  will  have  me." 

"  She  is  too  good  for  you,  Ned." 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  151 

"  I  know  it.  That  's  one  thing  makes  me 
love  her.  I  admire  superior  people ;  it  is  my 
single  merit.  I  would  n't  stoop  to  marry  my 
equal.  Flemming,  what  possessed  you  to  ques- 
tion her  about  New  Hampshire  ?  " 

"  We  were  speaking  of  the  White  Hills,  and 
the  question  asked  itself.  I  was  n't  thinking 
of  your  puerilities ;  don't  imagine  it.  I  hope 
her  reply  settled  you.  What  are  you  going  to 
do  now  ? " 

"  I  shall  go  with  them  to  Chamouni." 

"  And  afterwards  ?  " 

"  My  plan  is  to  wait  there  until  the  uncle 
comes." 

"  That  would  be  an  excellent  plan  if  you 
wanted  to  marry  the  uncle.  If  I  were  you, 
Ned,  I  would  go  and  speak  with  Miss  Denham, 
and  then  with  the  aunt,  who  will  be  worth  a 
dozen  uncles  if  you  enlist  her  on  your  side. 
She  does  n't  seem  unfriendly  to  you." 

"  I  will  do  that,  Flemming,"  returned  Lynde, 
thoughtfully.  "  I  am  not  sure  that  Miss  Den- 


152  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

ham  would  marry  me.  We  are  disposing  of 
her  as  if  she  could  be  had  for  the  asking.  I 
might  lose  everything  by  being  premature." 

"  Premature !  I  've  a  mind  to  stay  over  and 
fall  in  love  with  her  myself.  I  could  do  it  in 
a  day  and  a  half,  and  you  have  been  six  weeks 
about  it." 

"  Six  weeks !  I  sometimes  think  I  have 
loved  her  all  my  life,"  said  Lynde. 

From  the  Schweizerhof  the  young  men  drove 
without  speaking  to  the  railway  station,  which 
they  reached  just  in  time  for  Flemming  to  catch 
his  train.  With  hurriedly  exchanged  promises 
to  write  each  other,  the  two  parted  on  the  plat- 
form. Then  Lynde  in  a  serenely  happy  frame 
of  mind  caused  himself  to  be  driven  to  the 
Rue  des  Paquis,  where  he  stopped  at  the 
chateau  of  the  French  marquis,  which  looked 
remarkably  like  a  livery-stable,  and  arranged 
for  a  certain  travelling-carriage  to  be  at  the 
door  of  the  hotel  the  next  morning  at  eight. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  353 


vni. 

FROM   GENEVA   TO   CHAMOTINI. 

IF  there  is  in  all  the  world  as  lovely  a  day's 
ride  as  that  from  Geneva  to  Chamouni,  it 
must  be  the  ride  from  Chamouni  to  Geneva. 
Lynde  would  not  have  made  even  this  conces- 
sion the  next  morning,  as  a  heavy-wheeled  car- 
riage, containing  three  travellers  and  drawn  by 
four  stout  Savoy  horses,  rolled  through  the 
Grande  Place,  and,  amid  a  salvo  of  whip-lash 
and  a  cloud  of  dust,  took  the  road  to  Bonneville. 
"  I  did  not  think  I  cared  very  much  for 
Geneva,"  said  Miss  Denham,  leaning  from  the 
carriage  side  to  look  back  at  the  little  Swiss 
capital  set  so  prettily  on  the  blue  edge  of  Lake 
Leman ;  "I  did  not  think  I  cared  for  it  at 
all ;  yet  I  leave  it  with  a  kind  of  home- leaving 
regret." 


154  THE   QUEEN   OF    SHEBA. 

"  That  is  because  you  found  complete  repose 
there,  I  imagine,"  said  Lynde.  "  Geneva  is 
blessed  among  foreign  cities  in  having  no  rich 
picture-galleries,  or  famous  cathedrals,  or  mouldy 
ruins  covered  all  over  with  moss  and  history. 
In  other  places,  you  know,  one  is  distracted  by 
the  things  which  it  is  one's  imperative  duty  to 
see,  and  by  the  feeling  that  a  lifetime  is  too 
short  properly  to  see  them.  Coming  from  the 
great  Italian  cities  to  Geneva  is  like  falling 
asleep  after  some  prolonged  mental  strain.  I 
do  not  object  to  waking  up  and  leaving  it, 
however.  I  should  not  mind  leaving  Eden, 
in  pleasant  company,  on  such  a  morning  as 
this." 

"  The  company,  and  I  dare  say  the  morning, 
are  not  insensible  to  your  handsome  compli- 
ment, Mr.  Lynde." 

The  morning  was  without  flaw,  and  the  com- 
pany, or  at  least  that  part  of  it  represented 
by  Miss  Ruth  Denham,  had  more  color  in  its 
cheeks  than  usual,  and  its  dark  eyes  looked 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  155 

very  dark  and  melting  under  their  long  fringes! 
Mrs.  Dcnliam  was  also  of  a  high  complexion, 
but,  having  a  practical  turn  of  mind,  she  was 
wondering  whether  the  trunks,  which  rose  like 
a  monument  from  the  footboard  of  the  vehicle, 
were  quite  secure.  It  was  a  lumbering,  com- 
fortable concern,  with  red  and  black  wheels, 
and  a  maroon  body  set  upon  complicated  springs. 
The  back  seat,  occupied  by  the  Denhams,  was 
protected  by  a  leather  hood,  leaving  the  for- 
ward portion  of  the  carriage  open.  The  other 
seat  was  amicably  shared  between  Lynde  and 
a  pile  of  waterproofs  and  woolen  wraps,  essen- 
tials in  Switzerland,  but  which  the  ladies  doubt- 
less would  have  provided  themselves  if  they  had 
been  in  the  tropics.  On  the  high  box  in  front 
sat  the  driver,  speaking  from  time  to  time  in 
low,  confidential  tones  to  the  four  powerful 
black  horses,  whose  harnesses  were  lavishly 
hung  with  flaunting  chamois-tails  and  made 
merry  with  innumerable  silver  bells. 

For  the  last  two  weeks  Lynde  had  been  im- 


156  THE   QUEEN   OF  SHEBA. 

patiently  looking  forward  to  this  journey.  The 
thought  of  having  an  entire  day  with  Miss 
Denham,  on  such  terms  of  intimacy  as  tacitly 
establish  themselves  between  persons  travelling 
together  in  the  same  carriage,  had  softened  the 
prospect  of  the  final  parting  at  Chamouni ; 
though  now  he  did  not  intend  they  should 
separate  there,  unless  she  cruelly  willed  it. 
The  nature  of  Miss  Denham's  regard  for  him 
Lynde  had  not  fathomed.  She  had  been  frank 
and  friendly  with  him,  as  she  might  have  been 
with  a  cousin  or  a  person  much  older  than  her- 
self. As  he  told  Flemming,  he  had  never  had 
her  a  minute  alone.  The  aunt  had  always 
accompanied  them  on  their  brief  walks  and 
excursions  about  Geneva ;  whenever  she  had 
been  unable  to  do  so,  the  excursion  or  the 
walk  had  been  abandoned.  Lynde  saw,  among 
other  gracious  things  in  this  day's  ride,  a  prom- 
ising opportunity  for  a  tete-d-tete  with  Miss 
Denham.  Here  and  there,  along  the  winding 
ascents,  would  be  tempting  foot-paths,  short 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  157 

pine -shaded  cuts  across  the  rocks,  by  which 
the  carriage  could  be  intercepted  further  on. 
These  five  or  ten  minutes'  walks,  always  made 
enchanting  by  some  unlooked-for  grove,  or 
grotto,  or  cascade,  were  nearly  certain  to  lure 
Miss  Ruth  to  her  feet.  Then  he  would  have 
her  to  himself,  for  Mrs.  Denham  seldom  walked 
when  she  could  avoid  it.  To  make  assurance 
doubly  sure  Lynde  could  almost  have  wished 
her  one  of  those  distracting  headaches  from 
which  hitherto  he  had  suffered  so  keenly. 

For  the  first  few  miles  the  road  lay  through 
a  succession  of  villas  and  cultivated  gardens ; 
indeed,  these  gardens  and  villas  extend  all  the 
way  to  Chene,  where  a  thin  ribbon  of  a  stream, 
the  Foron,  draws  the  boundary  line  between  the 
canton  of  Geneva  and  Savoy.  At  this  point 
the  scenery  begins,  not  too  aggressively,  to  be 
picturesque;  you  catch  some  neat  views  of  the 
Yoirons,  and  of  the  range  of  the  Jura  lying 
on  your  right.*  Beyond  is  the  village  of  Anne- 
masse,  and  the  Chateau  of  Etrambiere,  with  its 


158  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

quartet  of  towers,  rises  from  the  foot  of  the 
Petit-SalSve  in  the  bluish-gray  distance.  You 
no  longer  see  Mont  Blanc,  except  at  intervals. 
Here  and  there  a  knot  of  hamlets  clings  to 
some  fir-dotted  slope,  or  tries  to  hide  itself 
away  in  the  bosom  of  a  ravine.  All  these 
Alpine  villages  bear  the  same  resemblance  to 
each  other  as  so  many  button-moulds  of  differ- 
ent sizes.  Each  has  its  quaint  little  church  of 
stucco,  surrounded  by  clusters  of  gray  and  dingy- 
white  headstones  and  crosses,  —  like  a  shepherd 
standing  in  the  midst  of  his  flock ;  each  has 
its  bedrabbled  main  street,  with  a  great  stone 
trough  into  which  a  stream  of  ice-cold  water  is 
forever  flowing,  and  where  comely  young  women 
of  substantial  ankles,  with  their  flaxen  hair 
braided  down  their  backs,  are  forever  washing 
linen;  each  has  its  beggar,  with  a  goitre  or  a 
wooden  leg,  lying  in  wait  for  you ;  and  each, 
in  turn,  with  its  purple  and  green  and  red  tiled 
roofs,  is  charming  to  approach  and  delightful 
to  get  away  from. 


THE   QUEEN   OF    SHEBA.  159 

After  leaving  Annemasse,  the  road  runs  up 
the  valley  of  the  Arve  and  crosses  a  bridge 
over  the  Menoge.  Then  comes  the  village  of 
Nangy,  and  then  Contamines,  beyond  which,  on 
a  bold  height,  stand  the  two  wrinkled,  crumbling 
towers  of  the  ancient  castle  of  Faucigny,  whence 
the  province  takes  its  name.  It  was  at  Nangy 
that  a  pretty  incident  befell  our  travellers.  On 
the  outskirts  of  the  village  they  met  fifty  or 
sixty  school  children  marching  three  abreast, 
the  girls  on  one  side  of  the  road  and  the  boys 
on  the  other.  The  girls  —  each  in  a  coarse 
blue  or  yellow  frock,  with  a  snowy  neckerchief 
pinned  over  her  bosom  and  a  pig-tail  of  hair 
hanging  down  her  shoulders  —  seemed  for  all 
the  world  like  little  old  women ;  and  not  one 
of  the  little  men  appeared  to  be  less  than  a 
hundred  and  five  years  old.  They  suggested 
a  collection  of  Shems  and  Japhets,  with  their 
wives,  taken  from  a  lot  of  toy  Noah's  arks. 
As  the  carriage  rolled  between,  the  two  files,  all 
the  funny  little  women  bobbed  a  simultaneous 


160  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

courtesy,  and  all  the  little  old-fashioned  men 
lifted  their  hats  with  the  most  irresistible  grav- 
ity conceivable. 

"  Fancy  such  a  thing  happening  in  the  United 
States ! "  said  Lynde.  "If  we  were  to  meet 
such  a  crowd  at  home,  half  a  dozen  urchins 
would  immediately  fasten  themselves  to  the 
hind  axle,  and  some  of  the  more  playful  spirits 
would  probably  favor  us  with  a  stone  or  two, 
or  a  snowball,  according  to  the  season." 
,  "  There  comes  the  cure",  now,"  said  Miss  Den- 
ham.  "It  is  some  Sunday-school  fete." 

As  the  cure*,  a  florid,  stout  person,  made  an 
obeisance  and  passed  on,  fanning  himself  leis- 
urely with  his  shovel-hat,  his  simple  round  face 
and  white  feathery  hair  put  Lynde  in  mind  of 
the  hapless  old  gentleman  whom  he  mistook  for 
the  country  parson  that  morning  so  long  ago. 
Instantly  the  whole  scene  rose  before  Lynde's 
vision.  Perhaps  the  character  of  the  landscape 
through  which  they  were  passing  helped  to  make 
the  recollection  very  vivid.  There  was  not  a 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  161 

cloud  in  the  pale  arch ;  yonder  were  the  far- 
reaching  peaks  with  patches  of  snow  on  them, 
and  there  stretched  the  same  rugged,  forlorn 
hills,  covered  with  dwarf  bushes  and  sentinelled 
with  phantom-like  pines.  An  odd  expression 
drifted  across  Lynde's  countenance. 

"  What  are  you  smiling  at,  Mr.  Lynde,  in 
that  supremely  selfish  manner  ?  "  inquired  Mrs. 
Denham,  looking  at  him  from  under  her  tilted 
sun-umbrella. 

"  Was  I  smiling  ?  It  was  at  those  droll  little 
beggars.  They  bowed  and  courtesied  in  an  un- 
concerned, wooden  way,  as  if  they  were  moved 
by  some  ingenious  piece  of  Swiss  clock-work. 
The  stiff  old  cure,  too,  had  an  air  of  having 
been  wound  up  and  set  a-going.  I  could  almost 
hear  the  creak  of  his  mainspring.  I  was  smiling 
at  that,  perhaps,  and  thinking  how  strongly  the 
scenery  of  some  portions  of  our  own  country 
resembles  this  part  of  Switzerland." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?     I  had  not  remarked  it." 

"This  is  not  the  least  like  anything  in  the 


162  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

Adirondack  region,  for  example,"  observed  Miss 
Ruth. 

"  It  may  be  a  mere  fancy  of  mine,"  returned 
Lynde.  "  However,  we  have  similar  geological 
formations  in  the  mountainous  sections  of  New 
England ;  the  same  uncompromising  Gothic  sort 
of  pines ;  the  same  wintry  bleakness  that  leaves 
its  impress  even  on  the  midsummer.  A  body 
of  water  tumbling  through  a  gorge  in  New 
Hampshire  must  be  much  like  a  body  of  water 
tumbling  through  a  gorge  anywhere  else." 

"  Undoubtedly  all  mountain  scenery  has  many 
features  in  common,"  Mrs.  Denham  said ;  "  but 
if  I  were  dropped  down  on  the  White  Hills, 
softly  from  a  balloon,  let  us  say,  I  should  know 
in  a  second  I  was  not  in  Switzerland." 

"  I  should  like  to  put  you  to  the  test  in  one 
spot  I  am  familiar  with,"  said  Lynde. 

"  I  should  not  like  to  be  put  to  the  test  just 
at  present,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Denham.  "  I  am 
very  simple  in  my  tastes,  and  I  prefer  the 
Alps." 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  163 

"  Where  in  New  England  will  you  see  such 
a  picture  as  that  ?  "  asked  Miss  Ruth,  pointing 
to  a  village  which  lay  in  the  heart  of  the  valley, 
shut  in  on  the  right  by  the  jagged  limestone 
rocks  of  the  Brezon  and  on  the  left  by  the 
grassy  slopes  of  the  M61e. 

"  Our  rural  towns  lack  color  and  architect- 
ure," said  Lynde.  "  They  are  mostly  collec- 
tions of  square  or  oblong  boxes,  painted  white. 
I  wish  we  had  just  one  village  composed  exclu- 
sively of  rosy-tiled  houses,  with  staircases  wan- 
tonly running  up  on  the  outside,  and  hooded 
windows,  and  airy  balconies  hanging  out  here 
and  there  where  you  don't  expect  them.  I 
would  almost  overlook  the  total  lack  of  drain- 
age which  seems  to  go  along  with  these  carved 
eaves  and  gables,  touched  in  with  their  blues 
and  browns  and  yellows.  This  must  be  Bonne- 
ville  we  are  coming  to.  We  change  horses 
here." 

In  a  few  minutes  they  swept  through  an 
avenue  of  noble  trees,  and  stopped  at  the  door- 


164  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

step  of  an  inn  alive  with  passengers  by  the 
diligence  just  arrived  from  Sallanches,  on  its 
way  to  Geneva. 

Lynde  was  beginning  to  feel  a  trifle  out  of 
spirits.  The  journey  thus  far  had  been  very 
pleasant,  but  it  had  not  wholly  fulfilled  his  ex- 
pectations. The  Denhams  had  occupied  them- 
selves with  the  scenery;  they  had  not  been 
much  inclined  to  talk ;  and  Lynde  had  found 
no  opportunity  to  make  himself  especially  agree- 
able. They  had  spoken  several  times  of  Flem- 
ming,  in  a  vein  of  eulogy.  Lynde  loved  Flem- 
ming ;  but  Flemming  as  a  topic  of  conversation 
possessed  no  particular  advantage  over  landscape. 
Miss  Denham  had  never  looked  so  lovely  to  Lynde 
as  she  did  this  day ;  he  was  glad  to  get  her  again 
in  that  closely-fitting  drab  travelling-dress,  laced 
up  to  the  shapely  white  throat.  A  sense  of 
great  comfort  had  stolen  over  him  the  two  or 
three  times  when  she  had  sunk  back  in  the  car- 
riage cushions  and  let  her  eyes  dwell  upon  him 
contemplatively  for  a  moment.  He  was  begin- 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  165 

ning  to  hate  Mrs.  Denliam,  and  he  thoroughly 
loathed  Bonneville,  where  a  polyglot  crowd  of 
tourists  came  flocking  into  the  small  waiting- 
room  just  as  Miss  Ruth  was  putting  up  her  hair 
and  unconsciously  framing  for  Lynde  a  never- 
to-be-forgotten  picture  in  the  little  cracked  inn- 
mirror. 

Passengers  by  diligence  usually  dine  at  Bonne- 
ville, a  fact  which  Lynde  had  ascertained  when 
he  selected  Cluses,  nine  miles  beyond,  as  the 
resting-place  for  his  own  party.  They  were 
soon  on  the  road  again,  with  the  black  horses 
turned  into  roan,  traversing  the  level  meadow- 
lands  between  the  Brezon  and  the  Mole.  With 
each  mile,  now,  the  landscape  took  on  new 
beauty  and  wilduess.  The  superb  mountains 
—  some  with  cloudy  white  turrets,  some  thrust- 
ing out  huge  snow-powdered  prongs,  and  others 
tapering  to  steely  dagger-points  —  hemmed  them 
in  on  every  side. 

Here  they  came  more  frequently  on  those  sor- 
rowful roadside  cairns,  surmounted  by  a  wooden 


166  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

cross  with  an  obliterated  inscription  and  a 
shrivelled  wreath,  marking  the  spot  where  some 
peasant  or  mountaineer  had  been  crushed  by  a 
land-slide  or  smothered  in  the  merciless  winter 
drift.  As  the  carriage  approached  Cluses,  the 
road  crept  along  the  lips  of  precipices  and  was 
literally  overhung  by  the  dizzy  walls  of  the 
Brezon.  Crossing  the  Arve,  —  you  are  always 
crossing  the  Arve  or  some  mad  torrent  on  your 
way  from  Geneva  to  Chamouni, —  the  travellers 
entered  the  town  of  Cluses  and  alighted  at  one 
of  those  small  Swiss  hotels  which  continually 
astonish  by  their  tidiness  and  excellence. 

In  spite  of  the  intermittent  breeze  wandering 
down  from  the  regions  above  the  snow-line,  the 
latter  part  of  the  ride  had  been  intensely  hot. 
The  cool,  shadowy  room,  with  its  table  ready 
laid  for  dinner  near  the  latticed  window,  was  a 
welcome  change  to  the  three  dusty  voyagers  as 
they  were  ushered  into  it  by  the  German  land- 
lord, whose  round  head  thinly  thatched  with 
whitey-brown  hair  gave  him  the  appearance  of 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  167 

having  been  left  out  over  night  in  a  hoar  frost. 
It  was  a  refreshment  in  itself  to  look  at  him, 
so  crisp  and  cool,  with  that  blinding  afternoon 
glare  lying  on  the  heated  mountain-slopes. 

"I  could  be  contented  here  a  month,"  said 
Mrs.  Denham,  throwing  off  her  bonnet,  and 
seating  herself  in  the  embrasure  of  the  window. 

"The  marquis  allows  us  only  three  quarters 
of  an  hour,"  Lynde  observed.  "  He  says  we 
cannot  afford  to  lose  much  time  if  we  want  to 
reach  Chamouni  before  sundown." 

"  Chamouni  will  wait  for  us." 

"  But  the  sunset  won't." 

Lynde  had  a  better  reason  than  that  for  wish- 
ing to  press  on.  It  was  between  there  and  Mag- 
land,  or,  rather,  just  beyond  Magland,  that  he 
proposed  to  invite  Miss  Denham  to  walk.  The 
wonderful  cascade  of  Ar'penaz,  though  it  could 
be  seen  as  well  from  the  carriage,  was  to  serve 
as  pretext.  Of  course  he  would  be  obliged  to 
include  Mrs.  Denham  in  his  invitation,  and  he 
had  sufficient  faith  in  the  inconsistency  of 


168  THE   QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 

woman  not  to  rely  too  confidently  on  her 
declining.  "  As  she  never  walks,  she  '11  come 
along  fast  enough,"  was  Lynde's  grim  reflec- 
tion. 

He  had  by  no  means  resolved  on  what  he 
should  say  to  Miss  Ruth,  if  he  got  her  alone. 
In  the  ten  minutes'  walk,  which  would  be  almost 
equivalent  to  a  first  interview,  he  could  not  say 
much.  He  could  tell  her  how  grieved  he  was 
at  the  thought  of  the  approaching  separation, 
and  tell  her  in  such  a  manner  as  would  leave 
her  in  no  great  doubt  as  to  the  state  of  his 
feelings.  But  whether  he  went  so  far  as  that 
was  a  problem  which  he  intended  to  let  chance 
solve  for  him. 

Lynde  was  standing  on  the  inn  steps  with 
his  after-dinner  cheroot,  meditatively  blowing 
circles  of  smoke  into  the  air,  when  the  carriage 
drove  round  from  the  stable  and  the  Denhams 
appeared  in  the  door-way.  The  young  woman 
gave  Lynde  an  ungloved  hand  as  he  assisted 
her  to  the  seat.  The  slight  pressure  of  her 


THE    QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  169 

fingers  and  the  touch  of  her  rings  were  pos- 
sessions which  he  retained  until  long  after  the 
carriage  had  passed  that  narrow  defile  near  the 
stalactite  cavern  in  the  Balme,  where  a  couple 
of  tiresome  fellows  insist  on  letting  off  a  small 
cannon  for  you,  to  awaken  a  very  disobliging 
old  Echo  who  refuses  to  repeat  anything  more 
than  twice.  What  a  magic  there  is  in  hands, 
— in  some  hands!  Lynde  could  have  held  Mrs. 
Denham's  hand  a  fortnight  without  getting  any- 
thing so  tangible  as  that  fleeting  touch  of  Miss 
Ruth's. 

"  Is  the  grotto  worth  seeing  ?  "  Mrs.  Denham 
asked,  with  a  speculative  glance  up  the  moun- 
tain side. 

"  It  is  an  hour's  hard  climb,  and  scarcely 
pays,"  replied  Lynde,  appalled  by  this  indica- 
tion of  Alpine  enterprise.  "  I  visited  it  the 
first  time  I  came  over  the  road.  You  get  a 
good  look  at  the  peaks  of  Mont  Douron  on  the 
other  side  of  the  valley,  and  that 's  all ;  the 
grotto  itself  is  not  remarkable.  But  I  think  it 


170  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

will  be  worth  while  to  halt  a  moment  when  we 
come  to  the  fall  of  Nant  d'Arpenaz.  That  is 
really  marvellous.  It  is  said  to  be  nearly  as 
fine  as  the  Staubbach." 

As  Miss  Ruth  leaned  back  in  the  cushions, 
lazily  fastening  the  third  button  of  her  glove 
with  a  hair-pin,  there  was  just  the  faintest 
glimmer  of  humor  in  the  eyes  that  looked  up 
into  the  young  man's  face.  He  was  being 
read,  and  he  knew  it;  his  dark  intentions  in 
regard  to  that  waterfall  were  probably  as  legible 
to  her  as  if  they  had  been  printed  in  great- 
primer  type  on  his  forehead.  On  two  or  three 
occasions  at  Geneva  she  had  wrested  his 
unworded  thought  from  him  with  the  same 
effortless  sorcery.  Lynde  evaded  her  look,  and 
studied  a  spire-like  peak  on  his  left.  "  I  shall 
have  an  air  of  detected  villainy  now,  when  I 
ask  her,"  he  mused.  "  That  's  the  first  shade 
of  coquetry  I  ever  saw  in  her.  If  she  accepts 
my  invitation  without  the  aunt,  she  means 
either  to  flirt  with  me  or  give  me  the  chance 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  171 

to  speak  to  her  seriously.  Which  is  it  to  be, 
Miss  Ruth  ?  I  wonder  if  she  is  afraid  of  Mrs. 
Denham.  Sometimes  it  seems  to  me  she  would 
be  a  different  girl  if  it  were  not  for  the  pres- 
ence of  the  aunt." 

By  and  by,  at  a  bend  of  the  road  after  pass- 
ing Magland,  the  waterfall  became  visible  in 
the  distance.  The  cascade  of  Nant  d'Arpenaz 
is  one  of  the  highest  falls  in  Savoy,  and  if  it 
is  not  the  most  beautiful,  one  can  still  well 
afford,  having  seen  that,  not  to  see  the  others. 
It  is  not  a  large  volume  of  water,  except  when 
swollen  by  rains,  as  it  happened  to  be  this  day, 
but  its  plunge  from  the  dizzy  brown  cliff  is  the 
gracefulest  thing  in  the  world.  The  curiously 
stratified  face  of  the  precipice  is  concave,  and 
the  water  has  a  fall  of  several  hundred  feet  to 
reach  the  slope,  which,  indeed,  it  seems  never 
to  reach ;  for  before  the  stream  has  accom- 
plished half  the  descent  it  is  broken  into  fine 
spray,  and  flaunts  loosely  in  the  wind  like  a 
veil  of  the  most  delicate  lace,  or,  when  the  sun- 


172  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

light  drifts  through  it,  a  wondrously  wrought 
Persian  scarf.  There  it  appears  to  hang,  mirac- 
ulously suspended  in  mid-air,  while  in  fact  it 
descends  in  imperceptible  vapors  to  the  slope, 
where  it  re-forms  and  becomes  a  furious  little 
torrent  that  dashes  across  the  road  under  a 
bridge  and  empties  itself  into  the  Arve. 

The  carriage-road  skirts  the  base  of  the 
mountain  and  offers  numberless  fine  views  of 
the  cascade  as  you  approach  or  leave  it.  It 
was  directly  in  front  of  the  fall,  half  a  mile 
distant,  though  it  did  not  look  so  far,  that  the 
driver,  in  obedience  to  previous  instruction 
from  Lynde,  drew  up  the  horses  and  halted. 
At  that  instant  the  sunshine  slanted  across  the 
fall  and  dashed  it  with  prismatic  colors. 

"It  is  almost  too  exquisite  to  look  at,"  said 
Mrs.  Denham.  "  It  makes  one  doubt  one's  own 
eyes." 

"  I  saw  it  once,"  Lynde  said,  "when  I  thought 
the  effect  even  finer.  I  was  induced  by  some 
pleasant  English  people  to  stop  over  night  at 


THE    QJJEEN   OF   SHEBA.  173 

Magland,  and  we  walked  up  here  in  the  moon- 
rise.  You  can't  imagine  anything  so  lovely  as 
that  long  strip  of  gossamer  unfolding  itself  to 
the  moonlight.  There  was  an  English  artist 
with  us,  who  made  a  sketch  of  the  fall ;  but  he 
said  a  prettier  thing  about  it  than  his  picture." 

"  What  was  that  ?  "  inquired  Miss  Ruth. 

"  He  called  it  Penelope's  web,  because  it  is 
always  being  unravelled  and  reknitted." 

"  That  artist  mistook  his  profession." 

"Folks  often  do,"  said  Lynde.  "I  know 
painters  who  ought  to  be  poets,  and  poets  who 
ought  to  be  brick-layers. 

"  Why  brick-layers  ?  " 

"  Because  I  fancy  that  brick-laying  makes  as 
slight  drain  on  the  imagination  as  almost  any 
pursuit  in  life.  Speaking  of  poets  and  water- 
falls, do  you  remember  Byron's  daring  simile 
in  Manfred?  He  compares  a  certain  waterfall 
at  the  foot  of  the  Jungfrau  to  the  tail  of  the 
pale  horse  ridden  by  Death  in  the  Apocalypse. 
Mrs.  Denham,"  said  Lynde  abruptly,  "  the  mar- 


174  THE    QUEEN   OF.SHEBA. 

(mis  tells  me  there  's  a  delightful  short  cut, 
through  the  rocks  here,  which  strikes  into  the 
road  a  mile  further  on." 

"  Let  us  take  it  then,"  answered  Mrs.  Den- 
ham,  settling  herself  comfortably  in  the  cush- 
ions. 

"It  is  a  foot-path,"  explained  Lynde. 

"  Oh ! " 

"  Our  reputation  as  great  American  travellers 
will  suffer,  Mrs.  Denham,  if  we  fail  to  do  a  bit 
of  Switzerland  on  foot.  Rather  than  have  that 
happen  I  would  undertake  the  expedition  alone. 
It  would  be  mere  martyrdom,  though,  without 
company."  As  Lynde  turned  the  handle  of  the 
carriage  door  and  planted  his  foot  on  the  first 
step,  he  ventured  a  glance  at  Miss  Ruth,  who 
was  sitting  there  with  a  face  as  impenetrable 
as  that  of  the  Memphian  Sphinx. 

"  Certainly,  if  our  reputation  is  at  stake," 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Denham,  rising  with  alacrity. 
Lynde  could  not  help  his  clouded  countenance. 
"  No,"  she  added,  slowly  sinking  back  into  the 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  175 

seat,  "  I  've  no  ambition  as  an  explorer.  I 
really  have  not." 

"  And  Miss  Denham  ?  "  said  Lynde,  drawing 
a  scarcely  repressed  breath  of  relief. 

"0,  Ruth  can  go  if  she  likes,"  replied  Mrs. 
Denham,  "  provided  it  is  not  too  far." 

"  It  is  hardly  an  eighth  of  a  mile  across," 
said  Lynde.  "You  will  find  us  waiting  for  you 
at  the  opposite  end  of  the  cut,  unless  you  drive 
rapidly.  It  is  more  than  a  mile  by  the  road.'* 

"  Do  you  wish  to  go,  Ruth  ? " 

Miss  Denham  hesitated  an  instant,  and  then 
answered  by  rising  impulsively  and  giving  her 
hand  to  Lynde.  Evidently,  her  first  intention 
had  been  to  refuse.  In  a  moment  more  she 
was  standing  beside  him,  and  the  carriage  was 
lazily  crawling  up  the  hill  with  Mrs.  Denham 
looking  back  through  her  glass  at  the  cascade. 

A  dozen  rude  steps,  partly  artificial  and 
partly  formed  by  the  strata  of  the  limestone 
bank,  led  from  the  roadside  up  to  the  opening 
of  the  foot-way.  For  thirty  or  forty  yards  the 


176  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

fern-fringed  path  was  too  narrow  to  admit  of 
two  persons  walking  abreast.  Miss  Denham, 
with  her  skirts  gathered  in  one  hand,  went 
first,  picking  her  way  over  the  small  loose 
stones  rendered  slippery  by  the  moss,  and 
Lynde  followed  on  in  silence,  hardly  able  to 
realize  the  success  of  the  ruse  which  had  come 
so  near  being  a  failure.  His  companion  was 
equally  preoccupied.  Once  she  stopped  for 
Lynde  to  detach  her  dress  from  a  grasping 
twig,  and  once  to  pluck  one  of  those  pallid 
waxen  flowers  which  sometimes  dauntlessly  find 
a  footing  even  among  the  snow-drifts  of  the 
higher  Alps.  The  air  was  full  of  the  resinous 
breath  of  the  pines,  whose  boughs,  meeting  and 
interlacing  overhead,  formed  an  arabesqued  roof, 
through  the  openings  of  which  the  afternoon 
sunshine  sifted,  as  if  through  stained  glass. 
With  the  slender  stems  of  the  trees  rising  on 
each  side  in  the  semi-twilight,  the  grove  was  like 
the  transept  of  a  cathedral.  It  seemed  a  profa- 
nation to  speak  in  such  a  place.  Lynde  could 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  177 

have  wandered  on  forever  in  contented  silence, 
with  that  tall,  pliant  figure  in  its  severely-cut 
drapery  moving  before  him.  As  he  watched 
the  pure  outline  defining  itself  against  the  sub- 
dued light,  he  was  reminded  of  a  colored  bas- 
relief  he  had  seen  on  a  certain  Egyptian  vase 
in  the  Museum  at  Naples.  Presently  the  path 
widened,  a  brook  babbled  somewhere  ahead 
among  the  rocks,  and  the  grove  abruptly  ended. 
As  Lynde  stepped  to  Miss  Denham's  side  he 
heaved  a  deep,  involuntary  sigh. 

"What  a  sigh,  Mr.  Lynde!"  she  cried,  swiftly 
turning  upon  him  with  a  surprised  smile.  "  It 
was  scarcely  complimentary." 

"  It  was  not  exactly  a  compliment ;  it  was 
an  unpremeditated  monody  on  the  death  of  this 
day,  which  has  flown  too  soon." 

"  You  are  very  ready  with  your  monody ;  it 
yet  lacks  three  or  four  hours  of  sunset,  when 
one  might  probably  begin  to  lament.  I  am 
enjoying  it  all  too  much  to  have  a  regret." 

"  Do  you  know,  I  thought  you  were  not  enjoy- 


178  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

ing  it  —  the  journey,  I  mean  ?  You  have  not 
spoken  a  hundred  words  since  we  left  Geneva." 

"  That  was  a  proof  of  my  perfect  enjoyment, 
as  you  would  know  if  you  knew  me  better. 
Fine  scenery  always  affects  me  like  music,  and, 
with  Jessica,  '  I  am  never  merry  when  I  hear 
sweet  music.'  Besides,  Mr.  Lynde,  I  was  form- 
ing a  plan." 

"A  plan?" 

"A  dark  conspiracy"  — 

"Is^the  spirit  of  Lucretia  Borgia  present?" 

— "  in  which  you  are  to  be  chief  conspirator, 
Mr.  Lynde." 

"  Miss  Denham,  the  person  is  dead,  either  by 
steel  or  poison;  it  is  all  one  to  me,  —  I  am 
equally  familiar  with  both  methods." 

As  the  girl  lifted  up  her  eyes  in  a  half- 
serious,  half-amused  way,  and  gave  him  a  look 
in  which  gentleness  and  a  certain  shadow  of 
hauteur  were  oddly  blended,  Lynde  started  in 
spite  of  himself.  It  was  the  very  look  of  the 
poor  little  Queen  of  Sheba. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  179 

"  With  your  bowl  and  dagger  and  monody," 
said  Miss  Denham,  breaking  into  one  of  her 
rare  laughs,  "  you  are  in  full  tragedy  this  after- 
noon. I  am  afraid  my  innocent  plot  will  seem 
very  tame  to  you  in  the  face  of  such  dreadful 
things." 

"  I  promise  beforehand  to  regard  it  as  the 
one  important  matter  in  the  world.  What  is 
it?" 

"  Nothing  more  than  this :  I  want  you  to  in- 
sist that  Aunt  Gertrude  and  I  ought  to  make 
the  ascent  of  Montanvert  and  visit  the  Mer  de 
Glace,  —  before  Uncle  Denham  arrives." 

"  Why,  would  he  object  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  anything  would  induce  him 
to  trust  either  of  us  on  one  of  those  narrow 
mule-paths." 

"  But  everybody  goes  up  Montanvert  as  a 
matter  of  course.  The  bridle-way  is  perfectly 
safe." 

"  Uncle  Denham  once  witnessed  a  painful 
accident  on  the  Wetterhorn,  indeed,  he  himself 


180  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

barely  escaped  death ;  and  any  suggestion  of 
mountain  climbing  that  cannot  be  done  on 
wheels  always  meets  a  negative  from  him.  I 
suspect  my  aunt  will  not  strongly  favor  the 
proposal,  but  when  I  make  it  I  shall  depend 
on  you  to  sustain  me." 

"  I  shall  surely  do  so,  Miss  Denham.  I  have 
had  this  same  excursion  in  my  mind  all  along." 

"  I  was  wondering  how  I  should  get  the 
chance  to  ask  the  favor  of  you,  when  that 
special  Providence,  which  your  friend  Mr.  Flem- 
ming  pretends  not  to  believe  in,  managed  it 
for  me." 

"  It  was  n't  I,  then,  but  Providence,  that 
invited  you  to  walk?" 

"  It  looks  like  it,  Mr.  Lynde." 

"  But  at  first  you  were  disposed  to  reject  the 
providential  aid." 

"  I  hesitated  about  leaving  Aunt  Gertrude 
alone." 

"  If  you  had  refused  me,  there  would  have 
been  no  end  to  my  disappointment.  This  walk, 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  181 

though  it  is  sixty  or  seventy  miles  too  short,  is 
the  choicest  thing  in  the  whole  journey." 

"  Come,  Mr.  Lynde,  that  is  an  improvement 
on  your  sigh." 

"  Does  it  occur  to  you  that  this  is  the  first 
time  we  have  chanced  to  be  alone  together,  in 
all  these  weeks?" 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Ruth,  simply,  "it  is  the 
first  time." 

"I  am  a  great  admirer  of  Mrs.  Denham  — " 

"I  do  not  see  how  you  can  help  being;  she 
is  charming,  and  she  likes  you." 

"  But  sometimes  I  have  wished  that  —  that 
Mr.  Denham  was  here." 

"Why?"  asked  Miss  Ruth,  regarding  him 
full  in  the  face. 

"  Because  then,  may  be,  she  would  have  been 
less  devoted  to  you." 

Miss  Denham  did  not  reply  for  a  moment. 

"  My  aunt  is  very  fond  of  me,"  she  said, 
gravely.  "  She  never  likes  to  have  me  absent 
an  hour  from  her  side." 


182  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

"  I  can  understand  that,"  said  Lynde,  with 
an  innocent  air. 

The  girl  glanced  at  him  quickly,  and  went 
on :  "  She  adopted  me  when  I  was  only  three 
years  old ;  we  have  never  been  separated  since. 
She  lived  in  Paris  all  the  time  I  was  at  school 
there,  though  she  did  not  like  Paris  as  a  resi- 
dence. She  would  make  any  sacrifice  for  me 
that  a  mother  would  make  for  a  daughter.  She 
has  been  mother  and  sister  to  me.  I  cannot 
overpay  her  devotion  by  any  unselfishness  of 
mine." 

As  she  spoke,  Lynde  caught  a  hateful  glimpse 
of  the  road  through  the  stubby  pine-trees  be- 
yond. It  appeared  to  him  only  two  minutes 
ago  that  he  was  assisting  Miss  Denham  to 
mount  the  stone  steps  at  the  other  extremity 
of  the  foot-path;  and  now  he  was  to  lose  her 
again.  She  was  with  him  alone  for  perhaps 
the  last  time. 

"  Miss  Ruth ! "  said  Lynde,  with  sudden  ear- 
nestness in  his  voice.  He  had  never  before 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  183 

addressed  her  as  Miss  Ruth.  She  raised  her 
eyes  furtively  to  his  face.  "  Miss  Ruth — " 

"  0,  there  's  the  carriage,  Mr.  Lynde ! "  ex- 
claimed Miss  Deuham,  releasing  the  arm  she 
had  accepted  a  few  paces  back,  and  hurrying 
down  the  path,  which  here  narrowed  again  as 
at  the  entrance  to  the  grove.  "And  there  is 
Aunt  Gertrude,"  she  added,  half -turning  to 
Lynde,  with  a  rich  bloom  on  her  cheeks,  "  look- 
ing as  distressed  as  if  we  had  slipped  over 
some  precipice.  But  we  have  not,  have  we, 
Mr.  Lynde?" 

"No,  we  have  n't  slipped  over  any  preci- 
pices," answered  Lynde,  with  a  curt  laugh.  "  I 
wish  we  had,"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "  She 
has  dragged  me  through  that  grove  and  over 
those  stones,  and,  without  preventing  me,  has 
not  permitted  me  to  breathe  the  least  word  of 
love  to  her.  I  don't  know  how  she  did  it. 
That  girl  's  the  most  consummate  coquette  I 
ever  saw.  I  am  a  child  in  her  hands.  I  be- 
lieve I  'm  beginning  to  be  afraid  of  her." 


184  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

Miss  Ruth  was  already  in  the  carriage,  pin- 
ning the  Alpine  flower  to  the  corsage  of  her 
aunt's  dress,  when  Lynde  reached  the  steps. 
Mrs.  Denham's  features  expressed  no  very  deep 
anxiety  that  he  could  discover.  That  was 
clearly  a  fiction  of  Miss  Ruth's.  Lynde  re- 
sumed his  place  on  the  front  seat,  and  the 
horses  started  forward.  He  was  amused  and 
vexed  at  the  inconsequence  of  his  interview 
with  Miss  Denham,  and  did  not  know  whether 
to  he  wholly  vexed  or  wholly  amused.  He  had, 
at  least,  broken  the  ice,  and  it  would  be  easier 
for  him  to  speak  when  another  opportunity 
offered.  She  had  understood,  and  had  not 
repulsed  him ;  she  had  merely  evaded  him. 
Perhaps  he  had  been  guilty  of  a  mismove  in 
attempting  to  take  her  at  a  disadvantage.  He 
was  too  discreet  to  dream  of  proposing  any 
more  walks.  A  short  cut  was  plainly  not  the 
most  direct  way  to  reach  Miss  Denham. 

She  was  in  livelier  spirits  now  than  she  had 
been  in  at  any  time  during  the  day.  "  The 


THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA.  185 

exercise  has  done  you  good,  Ruth,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Denham ;  "  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  accept 
Mr.  Lynde's  invitation  myself."  Mr.  Lynde 
was  also  politely  sorry,  and  Miss  Ruth  contrib- 
uted her  regrets  with,  an  emphasis  that  struck 
Lynde  as  malicious  and  overdone. 

Shortly  before  arriving  at  St.  Martin,  Miss 
Ruth  broached  her  Montanvert  project,  which, 
as  she  had  prophesied,  was  coldly  received  by 
the  aunt.  Lynde  hastened  to  assure  Mrs.  Den- 
ham  that  the  ascent  was  neither  dangerous 
nor  difficult.  Even  guides  were  not  necessary, 
though  it  was  convenient  to  have  them  to  lead 
the  animals.  On  the  way  up  there  were  excel- 
lent views  of  the  Flegere  and  the  Brevent. 
There  was  a  capital  inn  at  the  summit,  where 
they  could  lunch,  and  from  the  cliff  behind  the 
inn  one  could  look  directly  down  on  the  Mer  de 
Glace.  Then  Lynde  fell  back  upon  his  Murray 
and  Baedeker.  It  was  here  that  Professor  Tyn- 
dall  spent  many  weeks,  at  different  times,  inves- 
tigating the  theory  of  glacier  motion ;  and  the 


186  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

Englishman's  hut,  which  Goethe  mentions  in  his 
visit  to  the  scene  in  1779,  was  still  standing. 
Miss  Ruth  begged  with  both  eyes;  the  aunt 
wavered,  and  finally  yielded.  As  a  continuance 
of  fine  weather  could  not  be  depended  on,  it 
was  agreed  that  they  should  undertake  the 
ascent  the  following  morning  immediately  after 
daybreak.  Then  the  conversation  drooped. 

The  magnificent  scenery  through  which  their 
route  now  wound  began  to  absorb  them.  Here 
they  crossed  a  bridge,  spanning  a  purple  chasm 
whose  snake-like  thread  of  water  could  be  heard 
hissing  among  the  sharp  flints  a  hundred  feet 
below ;  now  they  rattled  through  the  street  of 
a  sleepy  village  that  seemed  to  have  no  reason 
for  being  except  its  picturesqueness ;  now  they 
were  creeping  up  a  tortuous  steep  gloomed  by 
menacing  crags ;  and  now  their  way  lingered 
for  miles  along  a  precipice,  over  the  edge  of 
which  they  could  see  the  spear-like  tips  of  the 
tall  pines  reaching  up  from  the  valley. 

At  the  bridge  between  St.  Martin  and   Sat 


THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA.  187 

lanches  the  dazzling  silver  peaks  of  Mont  Blanc, 
rising  above  the  green  pasturage  of  the  Forclaz, 
abruptly  revealed  themselves  to  the  travellers, 
who  fancied  for  the  moment  that  they  were 
close  upon  the  mountain.  It  was  twelve  miles 
away  in  a  bee-line.  From  this  point  one  never 
loses  sight  of  those  vast  cones  and  tapering 
aiguilles.  A  bloom  as  delicate  as  that  of  the 
ungathered  peach  was  gradually  settling  on  all 
the  fairy  heights. 

As  the  travellers  drew  nearer  to  the  termi- 
nation of  their  journey,  they  were  less  and  less 
inclined  to  converse.  At  every  turn  of  the 
sinuous  road  fresh  splendors  broke  upon  them. 
By  slow  degrees  the  glaciers  became  visible: 
first  those  of  Gria  and  Taconay ;  then  the  Gla- 
cier des  Boissons,  thrusting  a  crook  of  steel-blue 
ice  far  into  the  valley ;  and  then  —  faintly  dis- 
cernible in  the  distance,  and  seemingly  a  hand's 
breadth  of  snow  framed  by  the  sombre  gorge  — 
the  Glacier  des  Bois,  a  frozen  estuary  of  the 
Mer  de  Glace. 


188  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

The  twilight  was  now  falling.  For  the  la>*(; 
hour  or  more  the  three  inmates  of  the  carriage 
had  scarcely  spoken.  They  had  unresistingly 
given  themselves  over  to  the  glamour  of  the 
time  and  place.  Along  the  ravines  and  in  the 
lower  gorges  and  chasms  the  gray  dusk  was 
gathering;  high  overhead  the  domes  and  pinna- 
cles were  eaeh  instant  taking  deeper  tinges  of 
rose  and  violet.  It  seemed  as  if  a  word  loudly 
or  carelessly  uttered  would  break  the  spell  of  the 
alpgluhen.  It  was  all  like  a  dream,  and  it  was 
in  his  quality  of  spectral  figure  in  a  dream  that 
the  driver  suddenly  turned  on  the  box,  and, 
pointing  over  his  shoulder  with  the  handle  oi 
his  whip  said, — 

"  Chamouni ! " 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  189 


IX. 

MONTANVERT. 

E  mist  was  still  lingering  in  the  valleys, 
though  the  remote  peaks  had  been  kindled 
more  than  an  hour  by  the  touch  of  sunrise.  As 
Lynde  paced  up  and  down  the  trottoir  in  front 
of  the  Couronne  hotel,  he  drew  out  his  watch 
from  time  to  time  and  glanced  expectantly  to- 
wards the  hotel  entrance.  In  the  middle  of  the 
street  stood  a  couple  of  guides,  idly  holding 
the  bridles  of  three  mules,  two  of  which  were 
furnished  with  side-saddles.  It  was  nearly  half 
an  hour  past  the  appointment,  and  the  Denhams, 
who  had  retired  at  eight  o'clock  the  night  before 
in  order  to  be  fresh  for  an  early  start  up  the 
mountain,  had  made  no  sign.  Lynde  himself 
had  set  the  lark  an  example  that  morning  by 
breakfasting  by  candle-light.  Here  were  thirty 


190  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

minutes  lost.  He  quickened  his  pace  up  and 
down  in  front  of  the  hotel,  as  if  his  own 
Rapidity  of  movement  would  possibly  exert  some 
occult  influence  in  hastening  the  loiterers ;  but 
another  quarter  of  an  hour  dragged  on  without 
bringing  them. 

Lynde  was  impatiently  consulting  his  watch 
for  the  twentieth  time  when  Miss  Denham's 
troubled  face  showed  itself  in  the  door-way. 

"  Is  n't  it  too  bad,  Mr.  Lynde  ?  Aunt  Ger- 
trude can't  go ! " 

"  Can't  go !  "  faltered  Lynde. 

"  She  has  a  headache  from  yesterday's  ride. 
She  got  up,  and  dressed,  but  was  obliged  to  lie 
down  again." 

"  Then  that 's  the  end  of  it,  I  suppose,"  said 
Lynde,  despondently.  He  beckoned  to  one  of 
the  guides. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Miss  Denham,  standing 
in  an  attitude  of  irresolution  on  the  upper  step, 
with  her  curved  eyebrows  drawn  together  like 
a  couple^  of  blackbirds  touching  bills.  "  I  don't 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  191 

know  what  to  do  ...  she  insists  on  our  going. 
I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  letting  her  see 
that  I  was  disappointed.  She  added  my  concern 
for  her  illness  to  my  regret  about  the  excursion, 
and  thought  me  more  disappointed  than  I  really 
was.  Then  she  declared  she  would  go  in  spite 
of  her  headache  .  .  .  unless  I  went." 

The  gloom  which  had  overspread  Lynde's 
countenance  vanished. 

"It  is  not  one  of  her  severest  turns,"  con^ 
tinued  Miss  Ruth,  ceasing  to  be  a  statue  on  a 
pedestal  and  slowly  descending  the  hotel  steps 
with  her  waterproof  trailing  from  her  left  arm, 
"  arid  she  is  quite  capable  of  executing  her 
threat.  What  shall  we  do,  Mr.  Lynde?" 

"I  think  we  had  better  try  the  mountain, — 
for  her  sake,"  answered  Lynde.  "  We  need 
not  attempt  the  Mer  de  Glace,  you  know ;  that 
can  be  left  for  another  day.  The  ascent  takes 
only  two  hours,  the  descent  half  an  hour  less ; 
we  can  easily  be  back  in  time  for  lunch." 

"  Then  let  us  do  that." 


192  THE  QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

Lynde  selected  the  more  amiable-looking  of 
the  two  mules  with  side-saddles,  dismissed  one 
of  the  guides  after  a  brief  consultation,  and 
helped  Miss  Denham  to  mount.  In  attending 
to  these  preliminaries  Lynde  had  sufficient  mas- 
tery over  himself  not  to  make  any  indecorous 
betrayal  of  his  intense  satisfaction  at  the  turn 
affairs  had  taken.  Fortune  had  given  her  into 
his  hands  for  five  hours !  She  should  listen 
this  time  to  what  he  had  to  say,  though  the 
mountain  should  fall. 

At  a  signal  from  Lynde  the  remaining  guide 
led  the  way  at  a  brisk  pace  through  the  bustling 
town.  In  front  of  the  various  hotels  were  noisy 
groups  of  tourists  about  to  set  forth  on  pilgrim- 
ages, some  bound  for  the  neighboring  glaciers 
and  cascades,  and  others  preparing  for  more 
distant  and  more  hardy  enterprises.  It  was  a 
perfect  Babel  of  voices,  —  French,  Scotch,  Ger- 
man, Italian,  and  English;  with  notes  of  every 
sort  of  patois,  —  above  which  the  strident  bass 
of  the  mules  soared  triumphantly  at  intervals. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  193 

There  are  not  many  busier  spots  than  Chamouni 
at  early  morning  in  the  height  of  tne  season. 

Our  friends  soon  left  the  tumult  and  confu- 
sion behind  them,  and  were  skirting  the  pleas- 
ant meadows  outside  of  the  town.  Passing  by 
the  way  of  the  English  church,  they  crossed  to 
the  opposite  bank  of  the  Arve,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  gained  the  hamlet  lying  at  the  foot 
of  Montanvert.  Then  the  guide  took  the  bri- 
dle of  Miss  Ruth's  mule  and  the  ascent  began. 
The  road  stretches  up  the  mountain  in  a  suc- 
cession of  zigzags  with  sharp  turns.  Here  and 
there  the  path  is  quarried  out  of  the  begrudging 
solid  rock ;  in  places  the  terrace  is  several  yards 
wide  and  well  wooded,  but  for  the  most  part  it  is 
a  barren  shelf  with  a  shaggy  wall  rising  abruptly 
on  one  hand*  and  a  steep  slope  descending  on 
the  other.  Higher  up,  these  slopes  become  quite 
respectable  precipices.  A  dozen  turns,  which 
were  accomplished  in  unbroken  silence,  brought 
the  party  to  an  altitude  of  several  hundred  feet 
above  the  level. 


194  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

"  I  —  I  don't  know  that  I  wholly  like  it,"  said 
Miss  Ruth,  holding  on  to  the  pommel  of  her 
saddle  and  looking  down  into  the  valley,  check- 
ered with  fields  and  criss-crossed  with  shining 
rivulets.  "  Why  do  the  mules  persist  in  walk- 
ing on  the  very  edge?" 

"  That  is  a  trick  they  get  from  carrying  pan- 
niers. You  are  supposed  to  be  a  pannier,  and 
the  careful  animal  does  n't  want  to  brush  you 
off  against  the  rocks.  See  this  creature  of 
mine ;  he  has  that  hind  hoof  slipping  over  the 
precipice  all  the  while.  But  he  '11  not  slip; 
he  's  as  sure-footed  as  a  chamois,  and  has  no 
more  taste  for  tumbling  off  the  cliff  than  you 
have.  These  mules  are  wonderfully  intelligent. 
Observe  how  cautiously  they  will  put  foot  on  a 
loose  stone,  feeling  all  around  it.V 

"I  wish  they  were  intelligent  enough  to  be 
led  in  the  middle  of  the  path,"  said  Miss  Ruth, 
"but  I  suppose  the  guide  knows." 

"You  may  trust  to  him;  he  is  a  person  of 
varied  accomplishments,  the  chief  of  which  is 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  195 

he  does  n't  understand  a  word  of  English.  So 
you  can  scold,  or  say  anything  you  like,  without 
the  least  reserve.  I  picked  him  out  for  that," 
added  Lynde  with  a  bland  smile.  "  His  comrade 
was  a  linguist." 

"  If  I  have  anything  disagreeable  to  say," 
replied  Miss  Ruth,  with  another  bland  smile, 
"  I  shall  say  it  in  French." 

The  guide,  who  spoke  four  languages,  includ- 
ing English,  never  changed  a  muscle.  Lynde, 
just  before  starting,  had  closely  examined  the 
two  guides  on  their  lingual  acquirements  —  and 
retained  the  wrong  man. 

"  I  trust  you  will  have  no  occasion,  Miss  Den- 
ham,  to  be  anything  but  amiable,  and  that  you 
will  begin  by  granting  me  a  favor.  Will  you  ?  " 

"  Cela  depend." 

"  There  you  go  into  French !  I  have  n't  of- 
fended you  ?  " 

"  0,  no.     What  is  the  favor  ?  —  in  English." 

"That  you  will  let  me  call  you  Miss  Ruth, 
instead  of  Miss  Denham." 


196  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  objection,  Mr.  Lynde. 

"Thanks.     And  now  I  want  you  —  " 

«  What,  another  favor  ?  " 

"  Of  course.     Who  ever  heard  of  one  favor  ?  " 

"To  be  sure!     What  is  the  second ?" 

"I  want  you  should  be  a  little  sorry  when 
all  this  comes  to  an  end." 

"You  mean  when  we  leave  Chamouni?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  shall  be  sorry  then,"  said  Miss  Ruth, 
frankly,  "but  I  am  not  going  to  be  sorry  be- 
forehand." 

There  was  something  very  sweet  to  Lynde  in 
her  candor,  but  there  was  also  something  that 
restrained  him  for  the  moment  from  being  as 
explicit  as  he  had  intended.  He  rode  on  awhile 
without  speaking,  watching  the  girl  as  the  mule 
now  and  then  turned  the  sharp  angle  of  the 
path  and  began  a  new  ascent.  This  movement 
always  brought  her  face  to  face  with  him  a  mo- 
ment, —  she  on  the  grade  above,  and  he  below. 
Miss  Ruth  had  grown  accustomed  to  the  novel 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  197 

situation,  and  no  longer  held  on  by  the  pommel 
of  the  saddle.  She  sat  with  her  hands  folded 
in  her  lap,  pliantly  lending  herself  to  the  awk- 
ward motion  of  the  animal.  Over  her  usual 
travelling-habit  she  had  thrown  the  long  water- 
proof which  reached  to  her  feet.  As  she  sat 
there  in  a  half-listless  attitude,  she  was  the 
very  picture  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba  seated  upon 
Deacon  Twombly's  mare.  Lynde  could  not  help 
seeing  it;  but  he  was  schooling  himself  by  de- 
grees to  this  fortuitous  resemblance.  It  was 
painful,  but  it  was-  inevitable,  and  he  would 
get  used  to  it  in  time.  "  Perhaps,"  he  mused, 
"if  I  had  never  had  that  adventure  with  the 
poor  insane  girl,  I  might  not  have  looked  twice 
at  Miss  Denham  when  we  met  —  and  loved  her. 
It  was  the  poor  little  queen  who  shaped  my 
destiny,  and  I  ought  n't  to  be  ungrateful."  He 
determined  to  tell  the  story  to  Miss  Ruth  some 
time  when  a  fitting  occasion  offered. 

It  was  only  when  the  likeness  flashed  upon 
Lynde  suddenly,  as  it  had  done  in  the  grove 


198  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

the  previous  day,  that  it  now  had  the  power  to 
startle  him.  At  the  present  moment  it  did  not 
even  seriously  annoy  him.  In  an  idle,  pensive 
way  he  noted  the  coincidence  of  the  man  lead- 
ing the  mule.  The  man  was  Morton  and  the 
mule  was  Mary !  Lynde  smiled  to  himself  at 
the  reflection  that  Mary  would  probably  not 
accept  the  analogy  with  very  good  grace  if  she 
knew  about  it.  This  carried  him  to  River- 
mouth  ;  then  he  thought  of  Cinderella's  slipper, 
packed  away  in  the  old  hair-trunk  in  the  closet, 
and  how  perfectly  the  slipper  would  fit  one  of 
those  feet  which  a  floating  fold  of  the  water- 
proof that  instant  revealed  to  him  —  and  he  was 
in  Switzerland  again. 

"  Miss  Ruth,"  he  said,  looking  up  quickly  and 
urging  his  mule  as  closely  behind  hers  as  was 
practicable,  "what  are  your  plans  to  be  when 
your  uncle  comes?" 

"When  my  uncle  comes  we  shall  have  no 
plans,  —  Aunt  Gertrude  and  I.  Uncle  Denhan? 
always  plans  for  everybody." 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  199 

"I  don't  imagine  he  will  plan  for  me,"  said 
Lynde,  gloomily.  "  I  wish  he  would,  for  I  shall 
not  know  what  to  do  with  myself." 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  St.  Peters- 
burg." 

"  I  have  given  that  up." 

"  It 's  to  be  Northern  Germany,  then  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  dropped  that  idea,  too.  Will 
Mr.  Denham  remain  here  any  time  ?  " 

"  Probably  not  long." 

"  What  is  to  become  of  me  after  you  are 
gone  !  "  exclaimed  Lynde.  "  When  I  think  of 
Mr.  Denham  sweeping  down  on  Chamouni  to 
carry  you  off,  I  am  tempted  to  drive  this  mule 
straight  over  the  brink  of  one  of  these  preci- 
pices ! " 

The  girl  leaned  forward,  looking  at  the  rocky 
wall  of  the  Fleg^re  through  an  opening  in  the 
pines,  and  made  no  reply. 

"  Miss  Ruth,"  said  Lynde,  "  I  must  speak !  " 

"  Do  not  speak,"  she  said,  turning  upon  him 
with  a  half -imperious,  half-appealing  gesture,  "  I 


200  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

forbid  you"  ;  and  then,  more  gently,  "  We  have 
four  or  five  days,  perhaps  a  week,  to  be  together ; 
we  are  true,  frank  friends.  Let  us  be  just  that 
to  the  end." 

"  Those  are  mercifully  cruel  words,"  returned 
the  young  man,  with  a  dull  pain  at  his  heart. 
"  It  is  a  sweet  way  of  saying  a  bitter  thing." 

"  It  is  a  way  of  saying  that  your  friendship 
is  very  dear  to  me,  Mr.  Lynde,"  she  replied,  sit- 
ting erect  in  the  saddle,  with  the  brightness  and 
the  blackness  deepening  in  her  eyes.  "  I  wonder 
if  I  can  make  you  understand  how  I  prize  it. 
My  life  has  not  been  quite  like  that  of  other 
girls,  partly  because  I  have  lived  much  abroad, 
and  partly  because  I  have  been  very  delicate 
ever  since  my  childhood ;  I  had  a  serious  lung 
trouble  then,  which  has  never  left  me.  You 
would  not  think  it,  to  look  at  me.  Perhaps  it 
is  the  anxiety  I  have  given  Aunt  Gertrude  which 
has  made  her  so  tenacious  of  my  affe.ction  that 
I  have  scarcely  been  permitted  to  form  even 
those  intimacies  which  girls  form  among  them- 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  201 

selves.  I  have  never  known  any  one  —  any 
gentleman  —  as  intimately  as  I  have  known 
you.  She  has  let  me  have  you  for  my  friend." 

"But  Miss  Ruth  —  " 

"  Mr.  Lynde,"  she  said,  interrupting  him,  "  it 
was  solely  to  your  friendship  that  my  aunt  con- . 
fided  me  to-day.  I  should  be  deceiving  her  if  I 
allowed  you  to  speak  as  —  as  you  were  speak- 
ing." 

Lynde  saw  his  mistake.  He  should  have  ad- 
dressed himself  in  the  first  instance  to  the  aunt. 
He  had  been  lacking  in  proper  regard  for  the 
convenances,  forgetting  that  Ruth's  education 
had  been  different  from  that  of  American  girls. 
At  home,  if  you  love  a  girl  you  tell  her  so; 
over  here,  you  go  and  tell  her  grandmother. 
Lynde  dropped  his  head  and  remained  silent, 
resolving  to  secure  an  interview  with  Mrs.  Den- 
ham  that  night  if  possible.  After  a  moment  or 
two  he  raised  his  face.  "  Miss  Ruth,"  said  he, 
"if  I  had  to  choose,  I  would  rather  be  your 
friend  than  any  other  woman's  lover." 


202  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

"That  is  settled,  then,"  she  returned,  with 
heightened  color.  "  We  will  not  refer  to  this 
again  " ;  and  she  brushed  away  a  butterfly  that 
was  fluttering  about  her  conceitedly  in  its  new 
golden  corselet. 

Meanwhile  the  guide  marched  on  stolidly  with 
Ruth's  reins  thrown  loosely  over  the  crook  of 
his  elbow.  In  his  summer  courses  up  and 
down  the  mountain,  the  man,  with  his  four 
languages,  had  probably  assisted  dumbly  at 
much  fugitive  love-making  and  many  a  conju- 
gal passage-at-arms.  He  took  slight  note  of 
the  conversation  between  the  two  young  folks ; 
he  was  clearly  more  interested  in  a  strip  of 
black  cloud  that  had  come  within  the  half  hour 
and  hung  itself  over  the  Aiguille  du  Dru. 

The  foot-path  and  the  bridle-road  fro.m  Cha- 
mouni  unite  at  the  Caillet,  a  spring  of  fresh 
water  half-way  up  the  mountain.  There  the 
riders  dismounted  and  rested  five  or  six  min- 
utes at  a  rude  hut  perched  like  a  brown  bird 
under  the  cliff. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  203 

"  I  've  the  fancy  to  go  on  foot  the  rest  of 
the  distance,"  Lynde  remarked,  as  he  assisted 
Ruth  into  the  saddle  again. 

"  Then  I  '11  let  you  lead  the  mule,  if  you 
will,"  said  Ruth.  "  I  am  not  the  least  afraid." 

"  That  is  an  excellent  idea !  Why  did  you 
not  think  of  it  sooner  ?  I  shall  expect  a  buona- 
mano,  like  a  real  guide,  you  know." 

"  I  will  give  it  you  in  advance,"  she  said 
gayly,  reaching  forward  and  pretending  to  hold 
a  coin  between  her  thumb  and  finger. 

Lynde  caught  her  hand  and  retained  it  an 
instant,  but  did  not  dare  to  press  it.  He  was 
in  mortal  fear  of  a  thing  which  he  could  have 
crushed  like  a  flower  in  his  palm. 

The  young  man  drew  the  reins  over  his  arm 
and  moved  forward,  glancing  behind  him  at 
intervals  to  assure  himself  that  his  charge  was 
all  right.  As  they  approached  the  summit  of 
the  mountain  the  path  took  abrupter  turns,  and 
was  crossed  in  numberless  places  by  the  chan- 
nels of  winter  avalanches,  which  had  mown 


204  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

down  great  pines  as  if  they  had  been  blades 
of  grass.  Here  and  there  a  dry  water-course 
stretched  like  a  wrinkle  along  the  scarred  face 
of  the  hill. 

"  Look  at  that,  Miss  Ruth ! "  cried  Lynde, 
checking  the  mule  and  pointing  to  a  slope  far 
below  them. 

Nature,  who  loves  to  do  a  gentle  thing  even 
in  her  most  savage  moods,  had  taken  one  of 
those  empty  water-courses  and  filled  it  from 
end  to  end  with  forget-me-nots.  As  the  wind 
ruffled  the  millions  of  petals,  this  bed  of  flow- 
ers, only  a  few  inches  wide  but  nearly  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  in  length,  looked  like  a  flashing 
stream  of  heavenly  blue  water  rushing  down 
the  mountain-side. 

By  and  by  the  faint  kling-kling  of  a  cow- 
bell sounding  far  up  the  height  told  the  trav- 
ellers that  they  were  nearing  the  plateau. 
Occasionally  they  descried  a  herdsman's  chalet, 
pitched  at  an  angle  against  the  wind  on  the 
edge  of  an  arete,  or  clinging  like  a  wasp's-nest 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  205 

to  some  jutting  cornice  of  rock.  After  mak- 
ing four  or  five  short  turns,  the  party  passed 
through  a  clump  of  scraggy,  wind-swept  pines, 
and  suddenly  found  themselves  at  the  top  of 
Montanvert. 

A  few  paces  brought  them  to  the  Pavilion,  a 
small  inn  kept  by  the  guide  Couttet.  Here  the 
mules  were  turned  over  to  the  hostler,  and 
Miss  Kuth  and  Lynde  took  a  quarter  of  an 
hour's  rest,  examining  the  collection  of  crys- 
tals and  moss-agates  and  horn-carvings  which 
M.  Couttet  has  for  show  in  the  apartment  that 
serves  him  as  salon,  cafe,  and  museum.  Then 
the  two  set  out  for  the  rocks  overlooking  the 
glacier. 

The  cliff  rises  precipitously  two  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  above  the  frozen  sea,  whose  windings 
can  be  followed,  for  a  distance  of  five  miles, 
to  the  walls  of  the  Grandes  and  Petites  Jo- 
rasses.  Surveyed  from  this  height,  the  Mer  de 
Glace  presents  the  appearance  of  an  immense 
ploughed  field  covered  by  a  fall  of  snow  that  has 


206  THE  QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

become  dingy.  The  peculiar  corrugation  of  the 
surface  is  scarcely  discernible,  and  one  sees 
nothing  of  the  wonderful  crevasses,  those  nar- 
row and  often  fathomless  partings  of  the  ice, 
to  look  into  which  is  like  looking  into  a  split 
sapphire.  The  first  view  from  the  cliff  is  dis- 
appointing, but  presently  the  marvel  of  it  all 
assails  and  possesses  one. 

"I  should  like  to  go  down  on  the  ice,"  said 
Ruth,  after  regarding  the  scene  for  several 
minutes  in  silence. 

"  We  must  defer  that  to  another  day,"  said 
Lynde.  "  The  descent  of  the  moraine  from 
this  point  is  very  arduous,  and  is  seldom  at- 
tempted by  ladies.  Besides,  if  we  do  anything 
we  ought  to  cross  the  glacier  and  go  home  by 
the  way  of  the  Mauvais  Pas.  We  will  do  that 
yet.  Let  us  sit  upon  this  bowlder  and  talk." 

"What  shall  we  talk  about?  I  don't  feel 
like  talking." 

"  I  '11  talk  to  you.  I  don't  know  of  what.  .  .  . 
I  will  tell  you  a  story." 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  207 

"A  story,  Mr.  Lynde?  I  like  stories  as  if 
_I  were  only  six  years  old.  But  I  don't  like 
those  stories  which  begin  with  '  Once  there  was 
a  little  girl,'  who  always  turns  out  to  be  the 
little  girl  that  is  listening." 

"  Mine  is  not  of  that  kind,"  replied  Lynde, 
with  a  smile,  steadying  Miss  Ruth  by  the  hand 
as  she  seated  herself  on  the  bowlder;  "and  yet 
it  touches  on  you  indirectly.  It  all  happened 
long  ago." 

"  It  concerns  me,  and  happened  long  ago  ? 
I  am  interested  already.  Begin  !  " 

"  It  was  in  the  summer  of  1872.  I  was  a 
clerk  in  a  bank  then,  at  Ri  vermouth,  and  the 
directors  had  given  me  a  vacation.  I  hired 
a  crazy  old  horse  and  started  on  a  journey 
through  New  Hampshire.  I  did  n't  have  any 
destination ;  I  merely  purposed  to  ride  on  and 
on  until  I  got  tired,  and  then  ride  home  again. 
The  weather  was  beautiful,  and  for  the  first 
three  or  four  days  I  never  enjoyed  myself  bet- 
ter in  my  life.  The  flowers  were  growing,  the 


208  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

birds  were  singing,  —  the  robins  in  the  sun- 
shine and  the  whippoorwills  at  dusk,  —  and  the 
hours  were  not  long  enough  for  me.  At  night 
I  slept  in  a  tumble-down  barn,  or  anywhere, 
like  a  born  tramp.  I  had  a  mountain  brook 
for  a  wash-basin  and  the  west  wind  for  a  towel. 
Sometimes  I  invited  myself  to  a  meal  at  a 
farm-house  when  there  was  n't  a  tavern  handy ; 
and  when  there  was  n't  any  farm-house,  and  I 
was  very  hungry,  I  lay  down  under  a  tree  and 
read  in  a  book  of  poems." 

"0,  that  was  just  delightful!"  said  Ruth, 
knitting  the  fingers  of  both  hands  over  one 
knee  and  listening  to  him  with  a  child -like 
abandon  which  Lynde  found  bewitching. 

"  On  the  fourth  day  —  there  are  some  people 
crossing  on  the  ice,"  said  Lynde,  interrupting 
himself. 

"  Never  mind  the  people  on  the  ice ! " 

"  On  the  fourth  day  I  came  to  a  wild  locality 
among  the  Ragged  Mountains,  where  there  was 
not  a  human  being  nor  a  house  to  be  seen.  I 


THE    QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  209 

had  got  up  before  breakfast  was  ready  that 
morning,  and  I  was  quite  anxious  to  see  the 
smoke  curling  up  from  some  kitchen  chimney. 
Here,  as  I  mounted  a  hill-side,  the  saddle-girth 
broke,  and  I  jumped  off  to  fix  it.  Somehow,  I 
don't  know  precisely  how,  the  horse  gave  a 
plunge,  jerked  the  reins  out  of  my  hands,  and 
started  on  a  dead  run  for  Rivermouth." 

"  That  was  n't  very  pleasant,"  suggested  Ruth. 

"  Not  a  bit.  I  could  n't  catch  the  animal, 
and  I  had  the  sense  not  to  try.  I  climbed  to 
the  brow  of  the  hill  and  was  not  sorry  to  see 
a  snug  village  lying  in  the  valley." 

"  What  village  was  that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  to  this  day  —  with  any  cer- 
tainty. I  did  n't  find  out  then,  and  afterwards 
I  did  n't  care  to  learn.  Well,  I  shouldered  my 
traps  and  started  for  the  place  to  procure  an- 
other horse,  not  being  used  to  going  under  the 
saddle  myself.  I  had  a  hard  time  before  I  got 
through;  but  that  I  shall  not  tell  yon  about. 
On  my  way  to  the  village  I  met  a  young  girl. 


210  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

This  young  girl  is  the  interesting  part  of  the 
business." 

"  She  always  is,  you  know." 

"  She  was  the  most  beautiful  creature  I  hacj. 
ever  seen  —  up  to  that  time.  She  was  dressed 
all  in  white,  and  looked  like  an  angel.  I 
expected  she  would  spread  wing  and  vanish 
before  I  could  admire  her  half  enough ;  but  she 
did  not.  The  moment  she  saw  me  she  walked 
straight  to  the  spot  where  I  stood,  and  looked 
me  squarely  in  the  face." 

"Was  n't  that  rather  rude  —  for  an  angel?" 

"  You  would  n't  have  thought  so.  She  did 
it  like  a  young  goddess  with  the  supreme  pre- 
rogative to  flash  herself  that  way  on  mortals 
by  the  roadside." 

"  0,  she  was  a  young  goddess  as  well  as  an 
angel." 

"  After  she  had  looked  me  in  the  eye  a  sec- 
ond," continued  Lynde,  not  heeding  the  criti- 
cism, "  she  said  —  what  do  you  suppose  she 
said?" 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  211 

"  How  can  I  imagine  ?  " 

"  You  could  not,  in  a  thousand  years.  In- 
stead of  saying,  '  Good  morning,  sir,'  and  drop- 
ping me  a  courtesy,  she  made  herself  very  tall 
and  said,  with  quite  a  grand  air,  '  I  am  the 
Queen  of  Sheba ! '  Just  fancy  it.  Then  she 
turned  on  her  heel  and  ran  up  the  road." 

"  0,  that  was  very  rude.  Is  this  a  true 
story,  Mr.  Lynde?" 

"That  is  the  sad  part  of  it,  Miss  Ruth. 
This  poor  child  had  lost  her  reason,  as  I 
learned  subsequently.  She  had  wandered  out 
of  an  asylum  in  the  neighborhood.  After  a 
while  some  men  came  and  took  her  back 
again, —  on  my  horse,  which  they  had  captured 
in  the  road." 

"  The  poor,  poor  girl !  I  am  sorry  for  her 
to  the  heart.  Your  story  began  like  a  real 
romance ;  is  that  all  of  it !  It  is  sad  enough." 

"That  is  all.  Of  course  I  never  saw  her 
afterwards." 

"But  you  remembered  her,  and  pitied  her?" 


212  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

"  For  a  long  time,  Miss  Ruth." 

"  I  like  you  for  that.  But  what  has  this  to 
do  with  me?  You  said  —  " 

"  The  story  touched  on  you  indirectly  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  so  it  does ;  I  will  tell  you  how. 
This  poor  girl  was  beautiful  enough  in  your 
own  fashion  to-  be  your  sister,  and  when  I  first 
saw  you  —  " 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  guide,  respectfully  lift- 
ing a  forefinger  to  his  hat  as  he  approached, 
"I  think  it  looks  like  rain." 

The  man  had  spoken  in  English.  Ruth  went 
crimson  to  the  temples,  and  Lynde's  face  as- 
sumed a  comical  expression  of  dismay. 

"  Looks  like  rain,"  he  repeated  mechanically. 
"  I  thought  you  told  me  you  did  not  under- 
stand English." 

"  Monsieur  is  mistaken.  It  is  Jean  Macquart 
that  does  not  spik  English." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Lynde ;  "  if  it  is  going  to 
rain  we  had  better  be  moving.  It  would  not 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  213 

be  pleasant  to  get  blockaded  up  here  by  a 
storm — or  rather  it  would!  Are  the  animals 
ready  ? " 

"  They  are  waiting  at  the  foot  of  the  path, 
monsieur." 

Lynde  lost  no  time  getting  Ruth  into  the 
saddle,  and  the  party  began  their  descent,  the 
guide  again  in  charge  of  the  girl's  mule.  On 
the  downward  journey  they  unavoidably  faced 
the  precipices,  and  the  road  appeared  to  them 
much  steeper  than  when  they  ascended. 

"  Is  it  wind  or  rain,  do  you  think  ? "  asked 
Lynde,  looking  at  a  wicked  black  cloud  that 
with  angrily-curled  white  edges  was  lowering 
itself  over  the  valley. 

"  I  think  it  is  both,  monsieur." 

"How  soon?" 

"I  cannot  know.     Within  an  hour,  surely." 

"  Perhaps  we  were  wrong  to  attempt  going 
down,"  said  Lynde. 

"Monsieur  might  be  kept  at  Couttet's  one, 
two  —  three  days.  But;,  if  monsieur  wishes,  J 


214  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

will  go  on  and  tell  the  friends  of  mademoiselle 
that  you  are  detained." 

"  0,  no !  "  cried  Ruth,  filled  with  horror  at 
the  suggestion.  "  We  must  return.  I  shall 
not  mind  the  rain,  if  it  comes." 

As  she  spoke,  a  loose  handful  of  large  drops 
rustled  through  the  pine-houghs  overhead,  and 
softly  dashed  themselves  against  the  rocks. 

"  It  has  come,"  said  Lynde. 

"  I  have  my  waterproof,"  returned  the  girl. 
"  I  shall  do  very  well.  But  you  —  " 

The  sentence  was  cut  short  hy  a  flash  of 
lightning,  followed  by  a  heavy  peal  of  thunder 
that  rolled  through  the  valley  and  reverberated 
for  one  or  two  minutes  among  the  hills.  The 
guide  grasped  the  reins  close  up  to  the  bits, 
and  urged  the  mule  forward  at  a  brisk  trot. 
The  sky  cleared,  and  for  a  moment  it  looked 
as  if  the  storm  had  drifted  elsewhere;  but  the 
party  had  not  advanced  twenty  paces  before 
there  was  a  strange  rustling  sound  in  the  air, 
and  the  rain  came  down.  The  guide  whipped 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  215 

off  a  coarse  woolen  coat  he  wore,  and  threw  it 
over  the  girl's  shoulders,  tying  it  by  the  sleeves 
under  her  chin. 

"  0,  you  must  not  do  that !  "  she  cried,  "  you 
will  catch  your  death !  " 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  replied,  laughing,  as  he 
gave  another  knot  to  the  "sleeves,  "  for  thirty- 
eight  years,  man  and  boy,  I  have  been  rained 
upon  and  snowed  upon  —  and  voila!" 

"  You  're  a  fine  fellow,  my  friend,  if  you  do 
speak  English,"  cried  Lynde,  "  and  I  hope  some 
honest  girl  has  found  it  out  before  now." 

"  Monsieur,"  returned  the  man,  signing  him- 
self with  the  cross,  "  she  and  the  little  one  are 
in  heaven." 

The  rain  came  down  in  torrents ;  it  pattered 
like  shot  against  the  rocks ;  it  beat  the  air  of 
the  valley  into  mist.  Except  the  path  immedi- 
ately before  them,  and  the  rocky  perpendicular 
wall  now  on  their  right  and  now  on  their  left, 
the  travellers  could  distinguish  nothing  through 
the  blinding  rain.  Shortly  the  wind  began  to 


216  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

blow,  whistling  in  the  stiff  pines  as  it  whistles 
among  the  taut  cordage  of  a  ship  in  a  gale. 
At  intervals  it  tore  along  the  salient  zigzags 
and  threatened  to  sweep  the  mules  off  their 
legs.  The  flashes  of  lightning  now  followed 
each  other  in  rapid  succession,  and  the  thunder 
crashed  incessantly  through  the  gorges.  It 
appeared  as  if  the  great  cones  and  cromlechs 
were  tumbling  pell-mell  from  every  direction 
into  the  valley. 

Though  the  situation  of  the  three  persons  on 
the  mountain-side  was  disagreeable  to  the  last 
extent,  they  were  exposed  to  only  one  especial 
danger,  —  that  from  a  land-slide  or  a  detached 
bowlder.  At  every  ten  steps  the  guide  glanced 
up  the  dripping  steep,  and  listened.  Even  the 
mules  were  not  without  a  prescience  of  this 
peril.  The  sharpest  lightning  did  not  make 
them  wince,  but  at  the  faintest  sound  of  a 
splinter  of  rock  or  a  pebble  rustling  down  the 
slope,  their  ears  instantly  went  forward  at  an 
acute  angle.  The  footing  soon  became  difficult 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  217 

on  account  of  the  gullies  formed  by  the  rain. 
In  spite  of  his  anxiety  concerning  Ruth,  Lynde 
could  not  help  admiring  the  skill  with  which 
the  sagacious  animals  felt  their  way.  Each  fore 
hoof  as  it  touched  the  earth  seemed  endowed 
with  the  sense  of  fingers. 

Lynde  had  dismounted  after  the  rain  set  in 
and  was  walking  beside  the  girl's  mule.  Once, 
as  an  unusually  heavy  clap  of  thunder  burst 
over  their  heads,  she  had  impulsively  stretched 
out  her  hand  to  him;  he  had  taken  it,  and 
still  held  it,  covered  by  a  fold  of  the  water- 
proof, steadying  her  so.  He  was  wet  to  the 
skin,  but  Ruth's  double  wraps  had'  preserved 
her  thus  far  from  anything  beyond  the  damp- 
ness. 

"Are  you  cold?"  he  asked.  Her  hand  was 
like  ice. 

"  Not  very,"  she  replied,  in  a  voice  rendered 
nearly  inaudible  by  a  peal  of  thunder  that 
shook  the  mountain.  A  ball  of  crimson  fire 
hung  for  a  second  in  the  murky  sky  and  then 


218  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

shot  into  the  valley.  The  guide  glanced  at 
Lynde,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  That  struck." 

They  were  rapidly  leaving  the  wind  above 
them ;  its  decrease  was  noticeable  as  they  neared 
the  Caillet.  The  rain  also  had  lost  its  first 
fury,  and  was  falling  steadily.  Here  and  there 
bright  green  patches  of  the  level  plain  showed 
themselves  through  the  broken  vapors.  Ruth 
declined  to  halt  at  the  Caillet ;  her  aunt  would 
be  distracted  about  her,  and  it  was  better  to 
take  advantage  of  the  slight  lull  in  the  storm, 
and  push  on.  So  they  stopped  at  the  hut  only 
long  enough  for  Lynde  to  procure  a  glass  of 
cognac,  a  part  of  which  he  induced  the  girl  to 
drink.  Then  they  resumed  their  uncomfortable 
march. 

When  Lynde  again  looked  at  his  companion 
he  saw  that  her  lips  were  purple,  and  her  teeth 
set.  She  confessed  this  time^  to  being  very 
cold.  The  rain  had  at  length  penetrated  the 
thick  wrappings  and  thoroughly  chilled  her. 
Lynde  was  in  despair,  and  began  bitterly  to 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  219 

reproach  himself  for  having  undertaken  the  ex- 
cursion without  Mrs.  Denham.  Her  presence 
could  not  have  warded  off  the  storm,  but  it 
would  have  rendered  it  possible  for  the  party 
to  postpone  their  descent  until  pleasant  weather. 
Undoubtedly  it  had  been  his  duty  to  leave  Miss 
Ruth  at  the  inn  and  return  alone  to  Chamouni. 
He  had  not  thought  of  that  when  the  guide 
made  his  suggestion.  There  was  now  nothing 
to  do  but  to  hurry. 

The  last  part  of  the  descent  was  accomplished 
at  a  gait  which  offered  the  cautious  mules  no 
chance  to  pick  their  steps.  Lynde's  animal,  left 
to  its  own  devices,  was  following  on  behind, 
nibbling  the  freshened  grass.  But  the  road 
was  not  so  rough,  and  the  stretches  protected 
by  the  trees  were  in  good  condition.  In  less 
than  three  quarters  of  an  hour  from  the  half- 
way hut,  the  party  were  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  where  they  found  a  close  carriage 
which  Mrs.  Denham  had  thoughtfully  sent  to 
meet  them,  Benumbed  with  the  cold  and 


220  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

cramped  by  riding  so  long  in  one  position,  the 
girl  was  unable  to  stand  when  she  was  lifted 
from  the  saddle.  Lynde  carried  her  to  the 
carriage  and  wrapped  her  in  a  heavy  afghan 
that  lay  on  the  seat.  They  rode  to  the  hotel 
without  exchanging  a  word.  Lynde  was  in  too 
great  trouble,  and  Ruth  was  too  exhausted  to 
speak.  She  leaned  back  with  her  eyes  partially 
closed,  and  did  not  open  them  until  the  carriage 
stopped.  Mrs.  Denham  stood  at  the  hall  door. 

"  Mr.  Lynde !  Mr.  Lynde !  "  she  said,  taking 
the  girl  in  her  arms. 

The  tone  of  reproach  in  her  voice  cut  him  to 
the  quick. 

"  He  was  in  no  way  to  blame,  aunt,"  said 
Kuth,  trying  to  bring  a  smile  to  her  blanched 
face ;  "  it  was  I  who  would  go."  She  reached 
back  her  hand  unperceived  by  Mrs.  Denham 
and  gave  it  to  Lynde.  He  raised  it  gratefully 
to  his  lips,  but  as  he  relinquished  it  and  turned 
away  he  experienced  a  sudden,  inexplicable 
pang,  —  as  if  he  had  said  farewell  to  her. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  221 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  MONT  BLANC. 

BY  the  time  Lynde  had  changed  his  wet 
clothing,  the  rain  had  turned  into  a  dull 
drizzle  which  folded  itself  like  a  curtain  about 
the  valley.  Mont  Blanc,  with  its  piled-up  acres 
of  desolation,  loomed  through  the  mist,  a  shape- 
less, immeasurable  cloud,  within  whose  shadow 
the  little  town  was  to  live  darkly,  half  blotted 
out,  for  the  next  four  days. 

Lynde  spent  the  afternoon  between  his  own 
chamber  and  the  reading-room  of  the  hotel,  wan- 
dering restlessly  from  one  to  the  other,  and  not 
venturing  to  halt  at  Mrs.  Denham's  door  to 
inquire  after  Ruth.  Though  he  held  himself 
nearly  guiltless  in  what  had  occurred,  Mrs.  Den- 
ham's  rebuking  tone  and  gesture  had  been  none 
the  less  intolerable.  He  was  impatient  to  learn 


222  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA, 

Ruth's  condition,  and  was  growing  every  moment 
more  anxious  as  he  reflected  on  her  extreme 
delicacy  and  the  severe  exposure  she  had  under- 
gone ;  but  he  could  not  bring  himself  just  then 
to  go  to  Mrs.  Denham  for  information.  He 
concluded  to  wait  until  he  met  her  at  dinner; 
but  Mrs.  Denham  did  not  come  down  to  the 
table-d'h6te. 

The  twilight  fell  earlier  than  usual,  and  the 
long  evening'  set  in.  Lynde  smoked  his  cigar 
gloomily  at  an  open  window  looking  upon  the 
street.  It  was  deserted  and  dismal.  Even 
the  shop  across  the  way,  where  they  sold  alpen- 
stocks and  wood-carvings  and  knick-knacks  in 
polished  lapis,  was  empty;  in  pleasant  weather 
the  shop  was  always  crowded  with  curiosity- 
mongers.  The  raw  wind  spitefully  blew  the 
rain  into  Lynde's  face  as  he  looked  out.  "  Quel 
temps  de  loup ! "  sighed  a  polite  little  French 
gentleman,  making  his  unlighted  cigarette  an 
excuse  for  addressing  Lynde.  The  wretched 
little  French  gentleman  was  perishing  with  a 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  223 

desire  to  say  a  thousand  graceful  things  to 
somebody,  but  Lynde  was  in  no  mood  for  epi- 
grams. He  gave  his  interlocutor  a  light,  and 
sheered  off.  In  a  corner  of  the  reading-room 
was  a. tattered  collection  of  Tauchnitz  novels; 
Lynde  picked  up  one  and  tried  to  read,  but  the 
slim  types  ran  together  and  conveyed  no  mean- 
ing to  him.  It  was  becoming  plain  that  he  was 
to  have  no  communication  with  the  Denhams 
that  night  unless  he  assumed  the  initiative. 
He  pencilled  a  line  on  the  reverse  of  a  visiting 
card  and  sent  it  up  to  Mrs.  Denham's  parlor. 
The  servant  returned  with  the  card  on  his 
waiter.  The  ladies  had  retired.  Then  Lynde 
took  himself  off  to  bed  disconsolately. 

It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  when  he  awoke 
the  following  morning.  The  storm  had  not 
lifted ;  the  colorless  clouds  were  still  letting 
down  a  fine,  vapory  rain  that  blurred  every- 
thing. As  soon  as  he  had  breakfasted,  Lynde 
went  to  Mrs.  Denham's  rooms.  She  answered 
his  knock  in  person  and  invited  him  by  a  silent 


224  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

gesture  to  enter  the  parlor.  He  saw  by  the 
drawn  expression  of  her  countenance  that  she 
had  not  slept. 

"  Ruth  is  ill,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  reply- 
ing to  Lynde's  inquiry. 

"  You  do  not  mean  very  ill  ?  " 

"  I  fear  so.  She  has  passed  a  dreadful  night. 
I  have  had  a  doctor." 

"  Is  it  as  serious  as  that  ?    What  does  he  say  ? " 

"  He  says  it  is  a  severe  cold,  with  symptoms 
of  pneumonia ;  but  I  do  not  think  he  knows," 
returned  Mrs.  Denham,  despairingly.  "  I  must 
despatch  a  courier  to  my  husband ;  our  old 
family  physician  is  now  with  him  at  Paris.  I 
have  just  received  a  letter,  and  they  are  not 
coming  this  week!  They  must  come  at  once. 
I  do  not  know  how  to  telegraph  them,  as  they 
are  about  to  change  their  hotel.  Besides,  I 
believe  a  telegram  cannot  be  sent  from  here  ;  the 
nearest  office  is  at  Geneva.  I  must  send  some 
messenger  who  will  have  intelligence  enough  to 
find  Mr.  Denham  wherever  he  is." 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  225 

"I  will  go." 

"You?" 

"Why  not?  I  shall  waste  less  time  than 
another.  There  should  be  no  mistake  in  the 
delivery  of  this  message.  A  courier  might  get 
drunk,  or  be  stupid.  I  can  do  nothing  here. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  me,  possibly  this  unfor- 
tunate thing  would  not  have  happened.  I  am 
determined  to  go,  whether  you  consent  or 
not." 

"  I  shall  be  grateful  to  you  all  my  life,  Mr. 
Lynde.  I  should  not  have  thought  of  asking 
such  a  favor.  Ruth  says  I  was  rude  to  you 
yesterday.  I  did  not  mean  to  be.  I  was  dis- 
tracted with  anxiety  at  having  her  out  in  such 
a  storm.  If  there  is  any  blame  in  the  matter 
it  is  entirely  mine.  You  forgive  me  ?  " 

"  There  is  nothing  to  forgive,  Mrs.  Denhara ; 
blame  rests  on  no  one ;  neither  you  nor  I  could 
foresee  the  rain.  Write  a  line  to  Mr.  Denham 
while  I  pack  my  valise ;  I  shall  be  ready  in  ten 
minutes.  Who  is  his  banker  at  Paris?" 


226  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

"I  think  he  has  none." 

"  How  do  you  address  your  letters  ?  " 

"  I  have  written  but  once  since  Mr.  Denham's 
arrival,  and  then  I  directed  the  letter  to  the 
Hotel  Walther." 

"  He  has  probably  left  his  new  address  there. 
However,  I  shall  have  no  difficulty  in  finding 
him.  Mrs.  Denham" —  Lynde  hesitated. 

"Mr.  Lynde?" 

"  Can  I  not  see  her  a  moment  ?  " 

"  See  Euth  ?  " 

"My  request  appears  strange  to  you,  does  it 
not  ?  It  would  not  appear  strange  if  you  knew 
all." 

"  All  ?  I  don't  understand  you,"  replied  Mrs. 
Denham,  resting  her  hand  on  the  back  of  a 
chair  and  regarding  him  with  slowly  dilating 
pupils. 

"  If  you  knew  how  troubled  I  am  —  and  how 
deeply  I  love  her." 

"  You  love  Ruth !  " 

"  More  than  I  can  tell  you." 


THE   QUEEN    OF   SHEBA.  227 

"Have  you  told  her?"  Mrs.  Denham  de- 
manded. 

"Not  in  so  many  words." 

Mrs.  Denham  slowly  sank  into  the  chair  and 
for  several  seconds  appeared  completely  oblivious 
of  the  young  man's  presence ;  then,  turning 
sharply  on  Lynde,  and  half  rising,  she  asked 
with  a  kind  of  fierceness, "  Does  Ruth  know  it? " 

"  A  woman  always  knows  when  she  is  loved, 
I  fancy.  Miss  Denham  probably  knew  it  be- 
fore I  did." 

Mrs.  Denham  made  an  impatient  gesture  and 
subsided  into  the  chair  again.  She  remained 
silen  a  while,  staring  at  the  pattern  of  the 
carpet  at  her  feet. 

"  Mr.  Lynde,"  she  said  at  length,  "  I  was 
not  prepared  for  this.  The  possibility  that  you 
might  grow  interested  in  my  niece  naturally 
occurred  to  me  at  first.  I  was  pleased  when  I 
became  convinced  that  the  acquaintance  between 
you  had  resolved  itself  into  merely  a  friendly 
liking.  I  was  thrown  off  my  guard  by  your 


228  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

seemingly  frank  manner.  I  trusted  you.  You 
have  been  alone  with  my  niece  but  twice,  —  once 
for  only  ten  minutes.  I  will  do  you  the  justice 
to  say  that  you  have  made  the  most  of  those 
two  occasions." 

"  I  made  very  little  of  those  two  occasions," 
said  Lynde,  reflectively. 

"  I  think  you  have  been  —  treacherous  !  " 

"  I  do  not  see  what  there  can  be  of  treachery 
in  my  admiring  Miss  Denham,"  he  replied,  with 
a  flush.  "I  entered  into  no  compact  not  to 
admire  her." 

"  Mr.  Lynde,  Mr.  Denhana  will  not  approve 
of  this." 

"  Not  at  first,  perhaps  .    .    .  but  afterwards  ?  " 

"  Neither  now  nor  afterwards,  Mr.  Lynde." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  He  has  other  views  for  Ruth,"  said  Mrs. 
Denham,  coldly. 

"  Other  views  !  "  repeated  Lynde,  paling.  "  I 
thought  her  free." 

"  She  is  not  free  in  that  sense." 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  229 

The  assertion  Ruth  had  made  to  him  the  pre- 
vious day  on  the  mountain  side,  to  the  effect 
that  she  had  never  known  any  gentleman  as 
intimately  as  she  had  known  him,  flashed  across 
Lynde's  memory.  If  Mr.  Denham  had  views 
for  her,  certainly  Ruth  was  either  ignorant  of 
them  or  opposed  to  them. 

"Is  Miss  Ruth  aware  of  Mr.  Denham's  in- 
tentions regarding  her?" 

"  I  must  decline  to  answer  you,  Mr.  Lynde," 
said  Mrs.  Denham,  rising  with  something  like 
haughtiness  in  her  manner. 

"You  are  right.  I  was  wrong  to  speak  at 
present.  I  cannot  conceive  what  impelled  me; 
it  was  neither  the  time  nor  the  place.  I  beg 
you  to  consider  everything  unsaid,  if  you  can, 
and  I  especially  beg  you  not  to  allude  to  this 
conversation  in  your  note  to  Mr.  Denham.  The 
one  important  thing  now  is  to  have  proper  medi- 
cal attendance  for  your  niece.  The  rest  will 
take  care  of  itself." 

Lynde    bowed    somewhat    formally  and  was 


230  THE   QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

turning  away,  when  Mrs.  Denliam  laid  her  fin- 
gers lightly  on  the  sleeve  of  his  coat.  "I  am 
sorry  I  have  pained  you,"  she  said,  as  if  with 
a  touch  of  remorse. 

"  I  confess  I  am  pained,"  he  replied,  with  the 
faintest  smile,  "  but  I  am  not  discouraged,  Mrs. 
Denham." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  Lynde  was  on  the 
way  to  Geneva.  Life  and  the  world  had  some- 
how darkened  for  him  within  the  hour.  It 
seemed  to  him  incredible  that  that  was  the 
same  road  over  which  he  had  passed  so  joy- 
ously two,  days  before.  The  swollen  torrents 
now  rushed  vengefully  through  the  arches  of  the 
stone  bridges ;  the  low-hanging  opaque  clouds 
pressed  the  vitality  out  of  the  atmosphere ;  in 
the  melancholy  gray  light  the  rain-soaked  moun- 
tains wore  a  human  aspect  of  dolor.  He  was 
not  sorry  when  the  mist  gathered  like  frost  on 
the  carriage  windows  and  shut  the  landscape 
from  his  sight. 

The  storm  had  been  terrible  in  Geneva  and 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  231 

in  the  neighborhood.  It  was  a  scene  of  devas- 
tation all  along  the  road  approaching  the  town. 
Most  of  the  trees  in  the  suburbs  had  been  com- 
pletely stripped  of  foliage  by  the  hailstones ;  the 
leaves  which  still  clung  to  the  bent  twigs  were 
slit  as  if  volleys  of  buckshot  had  been  fired  into 
them.  But  the  saddest  thing  to  see  was  field 
after  field  of  rich  grain  mown  within  a  few 
inches  of  the  ground  by  those  swift  icy  sickles 
which  no  man's  hand  had  held.  In  the  section 
of  the  city  through  which  Lynde  passed  to  the 
railway  the  streets  were  literally  strewn  with 
broken  tiles  and  chimney-pots.  In  some  places 
the  brown  and  purple  fragments  lay  ankle-deep, 
like  leaves  in  autumn.  Hundreds  of  houses  had 
been  unroofed  and  thousands  of  acres  laid  waste 
in  a  single  night.  It  will  take  the  poor  of  the 
canton  fifty  years  to  forget  the  summer  storm 
of  1875. 

By  noon  the  next  day  Lynde  was  in  Paris. 
As  he  stepped  from  the  station  and  stood  under 
the  blue  sky  in  the  sparkling  Parisian  atmos- 


232  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

phere,  the  gloom  and  desolation  he  had  left 
behind  at  Geneva  and  Chamouni  affected  him 
like  the  remembrance  of  a  nightmare.  For  a 
brief  space  he  forgot  his  sorrowful  errand ;  then 
it  came  back  to  him  with  its  heaviness  redoubled 
by  the  contrast.  He  threw  his  valise  on  the 
seat  of  a  fiacre  standing  near  the  cross-way, 
and  drove  to  the  office  of  Galignani  in  the  Rue 
de  Rivoli,  —  the  morgue  in  which  the  names  of 
all  foreign  travellers  are  daily  laid  out  for  recog- 
nition. The  third  name  Lynde  fell  upon  was 
that  of  William  Denham,  HQtel  Meurice.  The 
young  man  motioned  to  the  driver  to  follow 
him  and  halt  at  the  hotel  entrance,  which  was 
only  a  few  steps  further  in  the  arcade  facing 
the  gardens  of  the  Tuileries. 

Mr.  Denham  was  at  breakfast  in  the  small 
salon  opening  on  the  paved  square  formed  by 
the  four  interior  walls  of  the  building;  he  had 
just  seated  himself  at  the  table,  which  was  laid 
for  two  persons,  when  the  waiter  brought  him 
Mrs.  Denham's  note  and  Lynde's  card.  Mr. 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  233 

Denham  glanced  from  one  to  the  other,  and 
then  broke  the  seal  of  the  envelope  with  a 
puzzled  air  which  directly  changed  into  a  per- 
turbed expression. 

"  Show  the  gentleman  in  here,"  he  said,  speak- 
ing over  the  top  of  the  note-sheet  to  the  ser- 
vant, "and  set  another  cover." 

It  was  a  strongly  featured  person  of  fifty  or 
fifty-five,  slightly  bald,  and  closely  shaven  with 
the  exception  of  a  heavy  iron-gray  mustache, 
who  rose  from  the  chair  and  stepped  forward 
to  meet  Lynde  as  he  entered.  Lynde's  name 
was  familiar  to  Mr.  Denham,  it  having  figured 
rather  prominently  in  his  wife's  correspondence 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  sojourn  at  Geneva. 

"  You  have  placed  us  all  under  deep  obliga- 
tions to  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Denham,  with  a 
smile  in  which  the  severity  of  his  features 
melted. 

"  The  obligations  are  on  my  side,  sir,"  replied 
Lynde.  "  I  owe  Mrs.  Denham  a  great  many 
kindnesses.  I  wish  I  could  have  found  some 


234  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

happier  way  than  the  present  to  express  my 
sense  of  them." 

"  I  sincerely  hope  she  was  not  justified  in 
allowing  you  to  take  this  long  journey.  I  beg 
of  you  to  tell  me  what  has  happened.  Mrs. 
Denham  has  been  anything  but  explicit." 

She  had  merely  announced  Ruth's  illness, 
leaving  it  to  Lynde  to  inform  Mr.  Denham  of 
the  particulars.  That  gentleman  wrinkled  his 
brows  involuntarily  as  he  listened  to  Lynde's 
account  of  his  mountain  excursion  alone  with 
Ruth  and  the  result.  "  I  have  not  seen  Miss 
Denham  since,"  said  Lynde,  concluding  his 
statement,  in  which  he  had  tripped  and  stum- 
bled wofully.  "  I  trust  that  Mrs.  Denham's 
anxiety  has  exaggerated  her  niece's  condition." 

"  Ruth  is  far  from  strong,"  replied  Mr.  Den- 
ham, "  and  my  wife  is  almost  morbidly  quick 
to  take  alarm  about  her.  In  fact,  we  both  are. 
Do  you  know  how  the  trains  run  to  Geneva  ? 
Is  there  anything  earlier  than  the  evening  ex- 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  235 

Lynde  did  not  know. 

"  We  will  ascertain  after  breakfast,"  continued 
Mr.  Denham.  "  Of  course  you  have  not  break- 
fasted yet.  You  ought  to  be  in  appetite  by  this 
time.  I  am  unusually  late  myself,  this  morning, 
and  my  friend,  the  doctor,  is  still  later.  We 
tired  ourselves  out  yesterday  in  a  jaunt  to  Fon- 
tainebleau.  The  doctor  's  an  incorrigible  sight- 
seer. Ah,  there  he  is !  Mr.  Lynde,  my  friend, 
Dr.  Pendegrast." 

Lynde  did  not  start  at  hearing  this  unex- 
pected name,  though  it  pierced  his  ear  like  a 
sharp-pointed  arrow.  He  was  paralyzed  for  an 
instant ;  a  blur  came  over  his  eyes,  and  he  felt 
that  his  hands  and  feet  were  turning  into  ice. 
However,  he  made  an  effort  to  rise  and  salute 
the  elderly  gentleman  who  stood  at  his  side  with 
a  hand  stretched  out  in  the  cordial  American 
fashion. 

Evidently  Dr.  Pendegrast  did  not  recognize 
Lynde,  in  whose  personal  appearance  three  years 
had  wrought  many  changes.  The  doctor  him- 


236  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

self  had  altered  in  no  essential ;  he  was  at  that 
period  of  man's  life  —  between  fifty  and  sixty 
—  when  ravaging  time  seems  to  give  him  a 
respite  for  a  couple  of  lustrums.  As  soon  as 
Lynde  could  regain  his  self-possession  he  exam- 
ined Dr.  Pendegrast  with  the  forlorn  hope  that 
this  was  not  his  Dr.  Pendegrast ;  but  it  was 
he,  with  those  round  eyes  like  small  blue-faience 
saucers,  and  that  slight,  wiry  figure.  If  any 
doubt  had  lingered  in  the  young  man's  mind,  it 
would  have  vanished  as  the  doctor  drew  forth 
from  his  fob  that  same  fat  little  gold  watch, 
and  turned  it  over  on  its  back  in  the  palm 
of  his  hand,  just  as  he  had  done  the  day  he 
invited  Lynde  to  remain  and  dine  with  him  at 
the  asylum. 

"  Why,  bless  me,  Denham ! "  he  exclaimed, 
laying  his  ear  to  the  crystal  of  the  time-piece 
as  if  he  were  sounding  a  doubtful  lung,  "  my 
watch  has  run  down,  —  a  thing  that  has  n't 
happened  these  twenty  years."  As  he  stood 
with  his  head  inclined  on  one  side,  the  doctor's 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  237 

cheery  eyes  inadvertently  rested  upon  Mr.  Den- 
ham's  face  and  detected  its  unwonted  disturb- 
ance. 

"  Mr.  Lynde  has  just  come  from  Chamouni," 
said  Mr.  Denham,  answering  the  doctor's  mute 
interrogation.  "  It  seems  that  Ruth  is  ill." 

Dr.  Pendegrast  glanced  at  Lynde  and  turned 
to  Mr.  Denham  again. 

"  I  imagine  it  is  only  a  cold,"  Mr.  Denham 
continued.  "  She  was  caught  in  a  rain-storm  on 
the  mountain  and  got  very  wet.  Mrs.  Denham 
is  of  course  worried  about  her,  and  Mr.  Lynde 
has  been  kind  enough  to  come  all  the  way  to 
Paris  for  us." 

"  That  was  very  kind  in  him." 

Dr.  Pendegrast  drew  a  chair  up  to  the  table 
and  began  questioning  Lynde.  Beyond  satisfy- 
ing such  of  the  doctor's  inquiries  as  he  could, 
Lynde  did  not  speak  during  the  meal.  He 
managed  to  swallow  a  cup  of  black  coffee, 
which  revived  him;  but  he  was  unable  to  eat 
n  mouthful.  The  intelligence  he  had  brought 


238  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

so  occupied  his  companions  that  the  young 
man's  very  noticeable  agitation  and  constraint 
escaped  them.  In  a  few  minutes  Mr.  Denham 
rose  from  his  seat  and  begged  the  two  gentle- 
men to  finish  their  breakfast  at  leisure,  while 
he  went  to  consult  the  time-table  at  the  bureau 
of  the  hotel. 

"  The  doctor  can  give  you  a  genuine  Ha- 
vana," he  remarked  to  Lynde.  "  I  will  join 
you  shortly  in  the  smoking-room." 

While  Dr.  Pendegrast  silently  drank  his 
coffee,  Lynde  pieced  his  scattered  thoughts 
together.  What  course  should  he  pursue  ? 
Should  he  take  the  doctor  into  his  confidence, 
or  should  he  let  himself  drift?  How  could 
the  doctor  help  him  in  the  circumstances? 
Ruth  had  been  insane.  What  could  do  away 
with  that  dreadful  fact,  the  revelation  of  which 
now  appalled  him  as  if  he  had  never  suspected 
it.  Ruth,  Ruth,  —  the  very  name  was  signifi- 
cant of  calamity !  Flemming's  words  rang  in 
his  ears :  "You  would  not  marry  her !  "  He 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  239 

had  not  replied  to  Flemming  that  night  when 
the  case  was  merely  supposititious.  But  now  — 
it  seemed  to  Lynde  that  he  had  never  loved 
Ruth  until  this  moment.  The  knowledge  of 
her  misfortune  had  added  to  his  love  that  great 
pity  of  which  he  had  spoken  to  his  friend. 
But  could  he  marry  her  ?  He  did  not  dare  put 
the  question  squarely,  for  he  dared  not  confess 
to  himself  that  he  could  not  give  her  up.  This, 
then,  was  the  key  to  Mrs.  Denham's  cold  rejec- 
tion of  his  suit;  it  explained,  also,  Ruth's 
unwillingness  to  have  him  speak  to  her  of  his 
love.  How  poignant  must  have  been  her  an- 
guish that  day  on  Montanvert  if  she  cared  for 
him!  She  loved  him,  —  how  could  he  doubt 
it?  —  but  she  had  accepted  the  hopelessness  of 
the  position.  In  his  own  mind  he  had  accused 
her  of  coquetry  in  their  walk  at  the  cascade  of 
Nant  d'Arpenaz.  He  saw  through  it  all  now; 
the  scales  had  fallen  from  his  eyes.  She  was 
hiding  her  misery  under  a  smooth  face,  as 
women  will.  A  sudden  reflection  sent  a  chill 


240  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

over  Lynde:  what  if  she  had  recognized  him 
that  first  day  at  dinner  in  Geneva  and  had 
been  playing  a  part  all  the  while !  Then  she 
was  the  most  subtile  actress  that  ever  lived, 
and  the  leading  lady  of  the  Theatre  Frangais 
might  indeed  go  and  take  lessons  of  her,  as 
Flemming  had  said.  The  thought  gave  Lynde 
a  shock.  He  would  not  like  to  have  the  woman 
he  loved  such  an  actress  as  that.  Had  Ruth 
revealed  everything  to  the  aunt,  and  was  she 
too  playing  a  part?  In  her  several  allusions 
to  Dr.  Pendegrast  Mrs.  Denham  had  called  him 
"  the  doctor  "  simply,  or  "  an  old  friend  of  our 
family,"  and  never  once  pronounced  his  name. 
"  Was  that  accidental  or  intentional  ? "  Lynde 
wondered.  "  It  was  inevitable  that  he  and  I 
should  meet  sooner  or  later.  Was  she  endeav- 
oring to  keep  the  knowledge  of  Dr.  Pendegrast 
from  me  as  long  as  possible  ?  The  exigency 
has  unmasked  her !  " 

"  Now,  Mr.  Lynde,  I  am  at  your  service." 
Lynde    gave   a   start,   as    if    the   doctor    had 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  241 

suddenly  dropped  down  at  his  side  from  out  of 
the  sky. 

Dr.  Pendegrast  pushed  back  his  chair  and 
led  the  way  across  the  quadrangle,  in  which  a 
number  of  persons  were  taking  coffee  at  small 
tables  set  here  and  there  under  oleander-trees 
in  green-painted  tubs.  The  smoking-room  was 
unoccupied.  Lynde  stood  a  moment  undeter- 
mined in  the  centre  of  the  apartment,  and 
then  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  doctor's  shoul- 
der. 

"  You  don't  remember  me  ?  " 

"  Ah,  then  I  have  seen  you  before ! "  ex- 
claimed Dr.  Pendegrast,  transfixed  in  the  act 
of  drawing  a  cigar  from  his  case.  "  Your  - 
name  and  your  face  puzzled  me,  but  I  could 
not  place  you,  so  I  did  n't  mention  it.  You 
must  pardon  an  old  man's  bad  memory,  I  am 
confused.  When  and  where  have  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you?" 

"  It  was  scarcely  a  pleasure,"  said  Lynde 
with  bitterness. 


242  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

<» 

"  Indeed !  I  cannot  Imagine  that ;  it  is  a 
pleasure  now,"  returned  the  doctor  courteously. 

"  It  was  three  years  ago,  at  your  asylum. 
As  you  will  recollect,  I  was  brought  there  by 
mistake  the  day  the  patients  — " 

"  Bless  me !  "  exclaimed  the  doctor,  dropping 
the  ignited  match.  "  How  could  I  forget  you ! 
I  took  such  a  great  liking  to  you,  too.  I  have 
thought  of  that  awkward  affair  a  thousand 
times.  But,  really,  coming  across  you  in  this 
unexpected  manner — " 

"  I  suppose  I  have  changed  somewhat,"  Lynde 
broke  in.  "  Dr.  Pendegrast,  I  am  in  a  very 
strange  position  here.  It  is  imperative  you 
should  be  perfectly  frank  with  me.  You  will 
have  to  overlook  my  abruptness.  Mr.  Denham 
may  return  any  instant,  and  what  I  have  to  say 
cannot  be  said  in  his  presence.  I  know  that 
Miss  Denham  has  been  under  your  charge  as  a 
patient.  I  want  to  know  more  than  that  bare 
circumstance." 

The  doctor  recoiled  a  step.     "  Of  course,"  he 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  243 

said,  recovering  himself,  "  you  must  have  recog- 
nized her." 

"  I  met  your  friends  six  or  seven  weeks  ago 
at  Geneva,"  continued  Lynde.  "  I  recognized 
Miss  Denham  at  once;  but  later  I  came  to 
doubt  and  finally  to  disbelieve  that  I  had  ever 
seen  her  elsewhere.  I  refused  to  accept  the 
testimony  of  my  eyes  and  ears  because  —  be- 
cause so  much  of  my  happiness  depended  on 
my  rejecting  it." 

"  Does  Mrs.  Denham  know  that  you  are  in 
possession  of  the  fact  you  mention?  Denham 
of  course  does  n't." 

"  No ;  it  is  my  meeting  with  you  that  has 
turned  my  discarded  doubt  into  a  certainty." 

"  Then,  I  beg  of  you,"  said  Dr.  Pendegrast, 
throwing  a  glance  across  the  quadrangle,  "  not 
to  breathe  a  syllable  of  this ;  do  not  even  think 
of  it.  It  has  been  kept  from  every  one, —  from 
even  the  most  intimate  friends  of  the  family: 
Ruth  herself  is  not  aware  of  her  temporary 
derangement;." 


244  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

"  Miss  Denham  does  not  know  it  ?  " 

"  She  has  not  the  remotest  suspicion  of  the 
misfortune  which  befell  her  three  years  ago." 

"  Miss  Denham  does  not  know  it  ? "  repeated 
Lynde,  in  a  dazed  way.  "That — that  seems 
impossible!  Pardon  me.  How  did  it  happen, 
Dr.  Peiidegrast  ?  " 

"  I  assume  that  you  are  not  asking  me 
through  idle  curiosity,"  said  the  doctor,  looking 
at  him  attentively. 

•  "  I    have    vital    reasons    for    my    question, 
doctor." 

"I  do  not  see  why  I  should  not  tell  you, 
since  you  know  so  much.  The  family  were  in 
Florida  that  spring.  Ruth  had  not  been  well 
for  several  months ;  they  had  gone  South  on 
her  account.  It  was  partly  a  pulmonary  diffi- 
culty. On  their  return  North,  Ruth  was  pros- 
trated by  a  typhoid  fever.  She  recovered  from 
that,  but  with  her  mind  strangely  disordered. 
The  mental  malady  increased  with  her  conva- 
lescence. Denham  and  I  were  old  friends;  he 


THE    QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  245 

had  faith  in  my  skill,  and  she  was  placed  in  my 
care.  She  was  brought  to  the  asylum  because 
I  could  not  attend  to  her  anywhere  else.  I 
considered  her  case  serious  at  first,  even  hope- 
less. The  human  body  is  still  a  mystery,  after 
science  has  said  its  last  word.  The  human 
mind  is  a  deeper  mystery.  While  I  doubted 
of  her  recovery,  she  recovered.  At  the  first 
intimation  of  returning  health,  she  was  taken 
home ;  when  her  wandering  thought  came  back 
to  her  she  was  in  her  own  room.  She  remem- 
bered that  she  had  been  very  ill,  a  long  time 
ill ;  she  had  a  faint  impression  that  I  had 
attended  her  meanwhile ;  but  she  remembered 
nothing  more.  The  knowledge  of  her  affliction 
was  kept  a  secret  from  her, — unwisely,  I  think. 
They  put  it  off  and  put  it  off,  until  it  became 
very  awkward  to  tell  her." 

Lynde  started  as  he  recalled  his  conversation 
with  Miss  Denham  on  the  rocks  overhanging 
the  Mer  de  Glace.  With  unwitting  cruelty  he 
had  told  Ruth  her  own  pathetic  story,  and  she 


246  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

had  unconsciously  pitied  herself !  A  lump  came 
into  his  throat  as  he  remembered  it. 

"  That  was  a  mistake,"  said  Lynde,  with  an 
effort,  "  not  to  tell  her." 

"  An  absurd  mistake.  It  has  given  my  friends 
no  end  of  trouble  and  embarrassment." 

"  How  long  was  she  afflicted  this  way  ? " 

"  Something  less  than  two  months." 

"  It  was  the  result  of  the  fever  ?  " 

"That  chiefly." 

"It  was  not  —  hereditary?"  Lynde  lingered 
on  the  word. 

"  No." 

"  Then  it  is  not  likely  to  occur  again  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  think  of  anything  more  unlikely," 
returned  the  doctor,  "  unless  the  same  conditions 
conspire,  which  is  scarcely  supposable,  as  I  could 
easily  prove  to  you.  You  can  understand,  Mr. 
Lynde,  that  this  has  been  a  sore  trial  to  Denham 
and  his  wife;  they  have  had  no  children,  and 
their  hearts  are  bound  up  in  Ruth.  The  dread 
of  a  recurrence  of  the  trouble  has  haunted  them 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  247 

night  and  day  in  spite  of  all  the  arguments  I 
could  advance  to  reassure  them.  They  have 
got  what  our  French  friends  call  a  fixed  idea, 
which  is  generally  an  idea  that  requires  a  great 
deal  of  fixing.  The  girl  ought  to  marry, — 
every  woman  ought  to  marry,  it  is  her  one 
mission ;  but  between  their  affections  and  their 
apprehensions,  my  friends  have  allowed  Ruth 
no  opportunity  to  form  attachments." 

"  I  'm  glad  of  that,"  said  Lynde,  quietly. 

"  Are  you  !  "  snapped  the  doctor.  "  I  am  not. 
I  would  like  to  see  her  married  some  day. 
Meanwhile  I  would  like  to  see  a  dozen  lovers 
about  her.  It  is  as  natural  for  a  young  girl 
to  coquet  as  it  is  for  a  canary  to  peck  at  its 
seed  or  trim  its  bill  on  a  bit  of  fishbone.  It 
is  bad  for  the  girl  and  the  canary  when  they 
are  prevented." 

"  There  is  something  human  in  this  crisp  old 
doctor,"  said  Lynde  to  hiinself,  and  then  aloud : 
"  So  Mr.  Denham  has  no  matrimonial  plans  for 
her?" 


248  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

"  None  whatever.  Since  Ruth's  recovery  the 
family  have  been  constantly  on  the  wing,  either 
at  home  or  abroad.  Most  of  Ruth's  life  has 
been  passed  over  here.  I  trust  to  your  discre- 
tion. You  will  perceive  the  necessity  of  keep- 
ing all  this  to  yourself." 

"  I  do,  and  I  now  see  that  your  travelling  with 
the  Denhams  is  a  circumstance  in  no  way  con- 
nected with  the  state  of  Miss  Denham's  health." 

"  Not  in  the  most  distant  manner,  Mr.  Lynde. 
I  am  with  them  because  they  are  my  old  friends. 
I  was  worn  out  with  professional  work,  and  I 
ran  across  the  sea  to  recuperate.  It  is  fortu- 
nate I  did,  since  Ruth  chances  to  need  me." 

Lynde  pondered  a  moment,  and  then,  abruptly : 
"  Does  Mrs.  Denham  know  of  my  former  meeting 
with  her  niece  ?  " 

"  I  never  breathed  a  word  to  Mrs.  Denham 
on  the  subject  of  Ruth's  escapade,"  replied  the 
doctor.  "  It  would  have  pained  her  without 
mending  matters.  Besides,  I  was  not  proud 
of  that  transaction." 


THE    QUEEN    OF   SHEBA.  249 

Mrs.  Denham's  suppression  of  the  doctor's 
name,  then,  in  speaking  of  him  to  Lynde,  had 
been  purely  accidental. 

"  Miss  Ruth's  strange  hallucination,  in  her 
illness,  as  to  personality,  her  fancy  about  the 
Queen  of  Sheba,  —  what  was  that  traceable 
to?"  asked  Lynde,  after  a  pause. 

"Heaven  only  knows.  She  was  reading  the 
Old  Testament  very  much  in  those  days.  I  have 
sometimes  accepted  that  as  an  explanation.  It 
often  happens  that  a  delusion  takes  its  cue  from 
something  read,  or  thought,  or  experienced  in 
a  rational  state.  In  the  case  of  the  man  Blais- 
dell,  for  example,  —  you  remember  him,  with 
his  marble  ship  ?  He  was  formerly  an  enter- 
prising ship-builder ;  during  the  Southern  war 
he  filled  a  contract  with  government  for  a  couple 
of  ironclads,  and  made  his  fortune.  The  depres- 
sion in  shipping  afterwards  ruined  him  —  and 
he  fell  to  constructing  marble  vessels !  He  is 
dead,  by  the  way.  I  wonder  if  his  reason  has 
been  given  back  to  him  —  in  that  other  world." 


250  THE  QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

Lynde  did  not  speak  immediately,  and  the  doc- 
tor relighted  his  cigar,  which  had  gone  out. 

"  Dr.  Pendegrast,  you  have  lifted  a  crushing 
weight  from  me.  I  cannot  explain  it  to  you 
now  and  here ;  but  you  shall  know  some  day." 

Dr.  Pendegrast  smiled.  "I  didn't  recollect 
you  at  first,  Mr.  Lynde ;  my  memory  for  names 
and  faces  is  shockingly  derelict,  but  I  have  re- 
tained most  of  my  other  faculties  in  tolerably 
good  order.  I  have  been  unreserved  with  you 
because  I  more  than  suspect — " 

The  doctor's  sentence  was  cut  short  by  Mr. 
Denham,  who  entered  at  the  instant.  He  had 
learned  that  there  was  no  train  for  Geneva 
before  the  night-express.  Lynde  lighted  the 
cigar  which  he  had  been  unconsciously  holding 
between  his  fingers  all  this  while,  and  on  the 
plea  of  cashing  a  draft  at  a  banker's  left  the  two 
gentlemen  together.  He  wandered  absently  into 
the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  crossed  the  crowded 
bridge  there,  and  plunged  into  the  narrow  streets 
of  the  Latin  Quarter.  Finding  his  way  back 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  251 

after  an  hour  or  so  to  the  other  bank  of  the 
Seine,  he  seated  himself  on  one  of  those  little 
black  iron  chairs  which  seem  to  have  let  them- 
selves down  like  spiders  from  the  lime-trees  in 
the  Champs  lillysees,  and  remained  for  a  long 
time  in  a  deep  study. 

The  meeting  with  Dr.  Pendegrast  had  been 
so  severe  a  shock  to  Lynde  that  he  could  not 
straightway  recover  his  mental  balance.  The 
appalling  shadow  which  the  doctor's  presence 
had  for  the  moment  thrown  across  him  had 
left  Lynde  benumbed  and  chilled  despite  the 
reassuring  sunshine  of  the  doctor's  words.  By 
degrees,  however,  Lynde  warmed  to  life  again; 
his  gloom  slipped  off  and  was  lost  in  the  rest- 
less tides  of  life  which  surged  about  him.  It 
was  the  hour  when  Paris  sits  at  small  green 
tables  in  front  of  the  cafes  and  sips  its  absinthe 
or  cassis;  when  the  boulevards  are  thronged, 
and  the  rich  equipages  come  and  go.  There 
was  not  a  cloud  in  the  tender  blue  sky  against 
which  the  reddish  obelisk  of  Luxor  looked  like 


252  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

a  column  of  jet ;  the  fountains  were  playmg  ii 
the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  and  in  the  Tuilcrics 
gardens  beyond,  the  breeze  dreamily  stirred  the 
foliage  which  hid  from  Lynde's  view  the  gray 
fagade  of  the  gutted  palace,  still  standing  there, 
calcined  and  cracked  by  the  fires  of  the  Com- 
mune. Presently  all  this  began  to  distract  him, 
and  when  he  returned  to  the  hotel  he  was  in  a 
humor  that  would  have  been  comparatively  tran- 
quil if  so  many  tedious  miles  had  not  stretched 
between  Paris  and  Chamouni. 

He  found  Mr.  Denham  and  Dr.  Pendegrast 
delaying  dinner  for  him.  After  dinner,  seeing 
no  prospect  of  renewing  conversation  in  private 
with  the  doctor,  Lynde  killed  the  time  by  writing 
a  voluminous  letter  to  Flemming,  whose  name 
he  had  stumbled  on  in  the  passenger-list  of  a 
steamer  advertised  to  sail  two  days  later  from 
Liverpool. 

As  Lynde  took  his  seat  in  the  railway  carriage 
that  night  he  had  a  feeling  that  several  centuries 
had  elapsed  since  daybreak.  Every  moment  was 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  253 

a  month  to  him  until  he  could  get  back  to  Cha- 
mouui.  The  thought  that  Ruth  might  he  dan- 
gerously ill  scarcely  presented  itself  among  his 
reflections.  She  was  free,  he  loved  her,  and 
there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  not  try  to 
win  her,  however  strongly  the  Denhams  might 
be  opposed  to  him.  His  mind  was  perfectly 
easy  on  that  score ;  they  had  no  right  to  wreck 
the  girl's  future  in  their  shallow  fear.  His  two 
travelling  companions  shortly  dropped  asleep, 
but  Lynde  did  not  close  his  eyes  during  those 
ten  weary  hours  to  Macon.  Thence  to  Geneva 
was  five  hours  more  of  impatience.  At  Geneva 
the  party  halted  no  longer  than  was  necessary 
to  refresh  themselves  at  a  buffet  near  the  station 
and  hire  a  conveyance  to  Chamouni,  which  they 
reached  two  or  three  hours  after  sunset.  The 
town,  still  lay,  as  Lynde  had  left  it,  in  the  por- 
tentous shadow  of  the  mountain,  with  the  sullen 
rain  dropping  from  the  black  sky. 

Lynde   drew   an    alarming    augury  from  the 
circumstance  that  Mrs.  Denham  did  not  come 


254  THE   QUEEN   OF    SHEBA. 

down  to  greet  them.  It  dawned  upon  him  then 
for  the  first  time  with  any  distinctness  that 
Ruth  might  be  fatally  ill.  Mr.  Denham,  accom- 
panied by  Dr.  Pendegrast,  hastened  to  his  wife's 
apartments,  and  Lynde  stationed  himself  at  the 
head  of  a  staircase  in  the  hall,  where  he  waited 
nearly  an  hour  in  intolerable  suspense  before 
the  doctor  reappeared. 

"  What  is  it,  doctor  ?  " 

"  Pneumonia.  No,"  he  added,  divining 
Lynde's  unspoken  thought  even  before  it  had 
fairly  shaped  itself  in  his  brain,  "  it  is  not  the 
other  business." 

"  You  are  hiding  the  truth  from  me,"  said 
Lynde,  with  a  pang.  "  She  is  dead !  " 

"  No,  but  she  is  very  low.  The  disease  is 
approaching  a  crisis ;  a  change  must  take  place 
by  to-morrow.  Frankly,  I  dread  that  change. 
I  am  hiding  nothing  from  you." 

"  Is  there  no  hope  ?     You  do  not  mean  that !  " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  do.  Perhaps  it  is  because 
she  is  so  dear  to  me  that  I  always  anticipate 


THE  QUEEN   OF  SHEBA.  255 

the  worst  when  she  is  concerned.  The  other 
physician  is  more  sanguine ;  but  then  he  does 
not  love  Ruth  as  I  do." 

"  You  might  have  saved  her !  " 

"Everything  has  been  done  that  could  be 
done.  He  is  a  person  of  remarkable  skill,  this 
Paris  physician.  I  could  have  advised  no 
change  in  his  treatment  of  the  case  if  I  had 
been  on  the  spot  at  first.  That  is  a  great  deal 
for  one  physician  to  say  of  another.  You  had 
better  go  and  get  some  rest,"  added  Dr.  Pende- 
grast,  in  a  changed  voice,  struck  by  the  young 
man's  ghastly  look.  "  Your  two  night-journeys 
have  used  you  up." 

Lynde  went  mechanically  to  his  room  and 
threw  himself  upon  the  bed  without  undressing. 
He  had  no  inclination  to  sleep,  but  his  fatigue, 
bodily  and  mental,  overcame  him  unawares 
as  he  lay  listening  to  the  wind  which  swept 
through  the  mountain-gorges,  and  rose  and  fell 
monotonously  with  a  sound  like  the  rote  of  the 
sea.  It  was  a  vision  of  the  sea  that  filled  his 


256  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

unrestful  slumber:  Ruth  was  dead,  she  had 
died  in  his  arms,  and  he  was  standing  woebe- 
gone, like  a  ghost,  on  the  deck  of  a  homeward 
bound  ship,  with  the  gray,  illimitable  waste  of 
waters  stretching  around  him. 

It  appeared  to  Lynde  to  be  in  the  middle  of 
the  night,  though  it  was  in  fact  on  the  edge 
of  daybreak,  that  he  was  awakened  by  some 
one  knocking  softly  at  his  door.  He  lighted  a 
match,  and  by  its  momentary  flicker  saw  Mr. 
Denham  standing  on  the  threshold. 

"Ruth  wishes  to  see  you,"  he  said,  indis- 
tinctly and  with  an  indecisive  air.  "As  nearly 
as  we  can  gather,  that  is  what  •  she  wants. 
Come  quickly!" 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply  Mr.  Denham 
turned  and  passed  through  the  hall.  Lynde 
followed  in  silence.  He  was  less  surprised 
than  agitated  by  the  summons ;  it  was  of  a 
piece  with  the  dream  from  which  he  had  been 
roused. 

There  were  candles  burning  on  the  mantel- 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  257 

piece  of  the  chamber,  and  the  dawn  was  whiten- 
ing the  window-panes.  In  that  weird,  blended 
light  the  face  of  the  sick  girl  shone  like  a 
fading  star.  Lynde  was  conscious  of  no  other 
presence,  though  Mrs.  Denham  and  Dr.  Pende- 
grast  with  a  third  person  were  standing  near 
the  chimney-place.  Ruth  raised  her  eyes  and 
smiled  upon  Lynde  as  he  came  in;  then  her 
lids  closed  and  did  not  open  again,  but  the 
smile  stayed  in  a  dim  way  on  her  features,  and 
a  flush  almost  too  faint  to  be  perceived  crept 
into  her  cheeks.  Lynde  stooped  by  the  bed 
and  took  one  of  Ruth's  hands.  She  turned  her 
head  slightly  on  the  pillow,  and  after  a  moment 
her  lips  moved  as  if  she  were  making  an  effort 
to  speak.  Lynde  remained  immobile,  fearing  to 
draw  breath  lest  a  word  should  escape  his  ear. 
But  she  did  not  speak.  As  he  stood  there  lis- 
tening in  the  breathless  stillness,  the  flame  of 
the  candles  burned  fainter  and  fainter  in .  the 
increasing  daylight ;  a  bird  twittered  somewhere 
aloft;  then  the  sunshine  streamed  through  the 


258  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

windows,    and    outside    all    the    heights    were 
touched  with  sudden  gold. 

Dr.  Pendegrast  approached  Lynde  and  rested 
one  finger  on  his  arm.  "  You  had  better  go 
now,"  the  doctor  whispered  hastily.  "  I  will 
come  to  you  by  and  by." 

Lynde  was  sitting  on  the  side  of  the  bed  in 
his  own  room  in  the  broad  daylight.  He  had 
been  sitting  motionless  in  one  posture  for  an 
hour,  —  perhaps  two  hours,  lie  could  not  tell 
how  long,  —  when  Dr.  Pendegrast  opened  the 
door  without  pausing  to  knock.  Lynde  felt  the 
cold  creeping  about  his  heart. 

"  Doctor,"  he  said,  desperately,  "  don't  tell 
me!" 

"  Mr.  Lynde,"  said  Dr.  Pendegrast,  walking 
up  to  the  bedside  and  speaking  very  slowly,  as 
if  he  were  doubtful  of  his  own  words  and  found 
it  difficult  to  articulate  them,  "  a  change  has 
taken  place,  but  it  is  a  change  for  the  better. 
I  believe  that  Ruth  will  live." 


THE    QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  259 

"  She  will  live !  " 

"  We  thought  she  was  sinking ;  she  thought 
so  herself,  the  poor  child.  You  were  worth 
a  thousand  doctors  to  her,  that  's  my  belief. 
Mrs.  Denham  was  afraid  to  tell  her  you  had 
gone  to  Paris  to  fetch  us,  thinking  it  would 
excite  her.  Ruth  imagined  that  her  aunt  had 
offended  you,  and  thought  you  had  gone  not  to 
return." 

"Ah  ! " 

"  That  troubled  her,  in  the  state  she  was  in, 
—  troubled  her  mightily.  She  has  been  able  to 
take  a  few  spoonfuls  of  broth,"  the  doctor  went 
on,  irrelevantly ;  "  her  pulse  is  improved ;  if  she 
has  no  drawback  she  will  get  well." 

Lynde  looked  around  him  bewilderedly  for  a 
moment ;  then  he  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands.  "  I  thought  she  was  dying ! "  he  said 
under  his  breath. 

That  day  and  the  next  the  girl's  life  hung 
by  a  thread;  then  the  peril  passed,  and  her 
recovery  became  merely  a  question  of  careful 


260  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

nursing.  The  days  which  immediately  followed 
this  certainty  were  the  happiest  Lynde  had  ever 
experienced.  Perhaps  it  was  because  his  cham- 
ber was  directly  over  Ruth's  that  he  »at  there 
in  the  window-seat,  reading  from  morning  until 
night.  It  was  as  near  to  her  as  he  was  permitted 
to  approach.  He  saw  little  of  Mr.  Denham  and 
still  less  of  Mrs.  Denham  during  that  week ; 
but  the  doctor  spent  an  hour  or  two  every 
evening  with  Lynde,  and  did  not  find  it  tire- 
some to  talk  of  nothing  but  his  patient.  The 
details  of  her  convalescence  were  listened  to 
with  an  interest  that  would  have  won  Dr.  Pen- 
degrast  if  he  had  not  already  been  very  well 
disposed  towards  the  young  fellow,  several  of 
whose  New  York  friends,  as  it  transpired,  were 
old  acquaintances  of  the  doctor's,  —  Dr.  Dillon 
and  his  family,  and  the  Delaneys.  The  con- 
versation between  Lynde  and  Dr.  Pendegrast 
at  the  Hotel  Meurice  had  been  hurried  and  dis- 
jointed, and  in  that  respect  unsatisfactory ;  but 
the  minute  history  of  Ruth's  previous  case 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  261 

which  the  doctor  related  to  Lynde  in  the 
course  of  those  long  summer  nights,  set  his 
mind  completely  at  rest. 

"  I  could  never  have  given  her  up,  any  way," 
said  Lynde  to  himself.  "  I  have  loved  her  for 
three  years,  though  I  did  n't  know  it.  That 
was  my  wife's  slipper  after  all,"  he  added, 
thinking  of  the  time  when  it  used  to  seem  to 
be  sitting  up  for  him  at  night,  on  his  writing- 
table  at  Rivermouth,  and  how  often  it  threw 
a  gloom  over  him  with  its  tragic  suggestion. 
"  My  wife's  slipper !  "  He  repeated  the  phrase 
softly  to  himself.  There  was  nothing  tragic  in 
it  now. 

By  and  by  the  hours  began  to  drag  with  him. 
The  invalid  could  not  get  well  fast  enough  to 
keep  pace  with  his  impatience.  The  day  she 
was  able  for  the  first  time  to  sit  up  a  -while,  in 
an  arm-chair  wheeled  by  the  bedside,  was  a  fete 
day  to  the  four  Americans  in  the  Couronne 
hotel.  If  Lynde  did  not  exhaust  his  entire 
inheritance  in  cut  flowers  on  this  occasion,  it 


262"  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

was  because  Dr.  Pendegrast  objected  to  them  in 
any  profusion  in  a  sick-chamber. 

"  When  am  I  to  see  her  ? "  asked  Lynde  that 
evening,  as  the  doctor  dropped  into  the  room 
to  make  his  usual  report. 

"  Let  me  think.  To-day  is  Tuesday,  —  per- 
haps we  shall  let  you  see  her  by  Friday  or 
Saturday." 

"  Good  heavens !  why  don't  you  put  it  oft 
thirty  or  forty  years  ? " 

"I  have  n't  the  time,"  returned  Dr.  Pende- 
grast, laughing.  "  Seriously,  she  will  not  be 
strong  enough  until  then  to  bear  the  least 
excitement.  I  am  not  going  to  run  any  risks 
with  Ruth,  I  can  tell  you.  You  are  very  im- 
patient, of  course.  I  will  give  you  a  soothing 
draught." 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"A  piece  of  information." 

"Ill  take  it!" 

"And  a  piece  of  advice." 

"  I  '11  take  that,  too ;  you  can't  frighten  me." 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  '263 

"It  is  a  betrayal  of  confidence  on  my  part," 
said  the  doctor  slowly,  and  with  an  air  of  recon- 
sidering his  offer. 

"No  matter." 

"  Well,  then,  Ruth's  asking  for  you,  the  other 
night,  rather  amazed  Denham  when  he  came  to 
think  it  over  quietly,  and  Mrs.  Denham  judged 
it  best  to  inform  him  of  the  conversation  which 
took  place  between  you  and  her  the  morning 
you  set  out  for  Paris.  Denham  was  still  more 
amazed.  She  had  attempted  to  cure  him  of  one 
astonishment  by  giving  him  another.  Similia 
similibus  curantur  did  not  work  that  time. 
Then  the  two  came  to  me  for  consultation,  and 
I  told  them  I  thought  Ruth's  case  required  a 
doctor  of  divinity  rather  than  a  doctor  of  medi- 
cine." 

"  Did  you  say  that !  " 

"  Certainly  I  did.  I  strongly  advised  an 
operation,  and  designated  the  English  Church 
here  as  a  proper  place  in  which  to  have  it  per- 
formed. Moreover,  as  a  change  of  air  would 


264  THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

be  beneficial  as  soon  as  might  be  afterwards,  I 
suggested  for  the  invalid  a  short  trip  to  Geneva 
—  with  not  too  much  company.  My  dear  fellow, 
you  need  not  thank  me;  I  am  looking  exclu- 
sively to  Ruth's  happiness,  —  yours  can  come 
in  incidentally,  if  it  wants  to.  Mrs.  Denham 
is  your  ally." 

"  Is  she,  indeed  ?  I  thought  differently.  And 
Ruth  —  " 

"  Ruth,"  interposed  the  doctor,  with  a  twinkle 
in  his  eyes,  "  Ruth  is  the  good  little  girl  in  the 
primer  who  does  n't  speak  until  she  's  spoken 
to." 

"  By  Jove,  she  does  n't  speak  even  then !  I 
have  tried  her  twice :  once  she  evaded  me,  and 
once  she  refused  to  listen." 

"  The  results  of  her  false  education,"  said  the 
doctor,  sententiously. 

Lynde  laughed. 

"  To  what  view  of  the  question  does  Mr.  Den- 
ham  incline?"  he  asked. 

"Denham  is  not  as  unreasonable  as  he  used 


THE    QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  265 

to  be ;  but  he  is  somewhat  stunned  by  the  unex- 
pectedness of  the  thing." 

"  That  's  the  information ;  and  now  for  the 
advice,  doctor." 

"  I  advise  you  to  speak  with  Denham  the  first 
chance  you  get.  You  will  have  an  opportunity 
this  evening.  I  took  the  liberty  of  asking  him 
to  come  up  here  and  smoke  a  cigar  with  us  as 
soon  as  he  finishes  his  coffee." 

Lynde  nodded  his  head  approvingly,  and  the 
doctor  went  on  :  — 

"  I  shall  leave  you  together  after  a  while,  and 
then  you  must  manage  it.  At  present  he  is  in 
no  state  to  deny  Ruth  anything ;  he  would  give 
her  a  lover  just  as  he  would  buy  her  a  pair  of 
ear-rings.  His  joy  over  her  escape  from  death 
—  it  was  a  fearfully  narrow  escape,  let  me  tell 
you  —  has  left  him  powerless.  Moreover,  her 
illness,  in  which  there  has  not  been  a  symptom 
of  the  old  trouble,  has  reassured  him  on  a  most 
painful  point.  In  short,  everything  is  remark- 
ably smooth  for  you.  I  think  that 's  Denham's 


266  THE   QUEEN   OP  SHEBA. 

step  now  in  the  hall,"  added  Dr.  Pendegrast, 
hurriedly.  "  You  can  say  what  you  please  to 
him  of  Ruth ;  but  mind  you,  my  dear  boy,  not 
a  word  at  this  juncture  about  the  Queen  of  Sheba 
—  she  's  dethroned,  you  know  !  " 


THE   QUiiEN   OF   SHEBA.  267 


XI. 


PEOM   CHAMOUNI   TO   GENEVA. 

ONE  morning  in  September,  a  month  after 
all  this,  three  persons,  a  lady  and  two 
gentlemen,  stood  on  the  upper  step  of  the  Cou- 
ronne  hotel,  waving  farewell  with  their  handker- 
chiefs to  a  carriage  which  had  just  started  from 
the  door  and  was  gayly  taking  the  road  to  St. 
Gervais-les-Bains,  on  the  way  to  Geneva. 

A  cool  purple  light  stretched  along  the  valley 
and  reached  up  the  mountain-side  to  where  the 
eternal  snows  begin.  The  crown  of  Mont 
Blanc,  muffled  in  its  scarf  of  cloud,  was  invisi- 
ble. The  old  monarch  was  in  that  disdainful 
mood  which  sometimes  lasts  him  for  months 
together.  From  those  perilous  heights  came 
down  a  breath  that  chilled  the  air  and  tempered 
the  sunshine  falling  upon  Chamouni,  now  silent 


268  THE    QUEEN   OF    SHEBA. 

and  deserted,  for  the  season  was  wellnigh  over. 
With  the  birds,  their  brothers,  the  summer 
tourists  had  flown  southward  at  the  rustling 
of  the  first  autumnal  leaf.  Here  and  there  a 
guide  leaned  idly  against  a  post  in  front  of  one 
of  the  empty  hotels.  There  was  no  other  indi- 
cation of  life  in  the  main  street  save  the  little 
group  we  have  mentioned  watching  the  depart- 
ing carriage. 

This  carriage,  a  maroon  body  set  upon  red 
and  black  wheels,  was  drawn  by  four  white 
horses  and  driven  by  the  marquis.  The  doctor 
had  prescribed  white  horses,  and  he  took  great 
credit  to  himself  that  morning  as  he  stood  on 
the  hotel  steps  beside  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Denham,  who 
followed  the  retreating  vehicle  rather  thought- 
fully with  their  eyes  until  it  turned  a  corner 
of  the  narrow  street  and  was  lost  to  them. 

As  the  horses  slackened  their  speed  at  an 
ascending  piece  of  ground  outside  the  town, 
Lynde  took  Ruth's  hand.  The  color  of  health 
had  reasserted  itself  in  her  cheeks,  but  her  eyes 


THE   QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  269 

had  not  lost  a  certain  depth  of  lustre  which 
they  had  learned  during  her  illness.  The  happy 
light  in  them  illumined  her  face  as  she  turned 
towards  him. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it !  "  cried  Lynde. 
"It  is  just  a  dream,  a  cheating  page  out  of  a 
fairy-book.  These  horses  are  simply  four  white 
mice  transformed.  An  hour  ago,  perhaps,  this 
carriage  was  a  pumpkin  lying  on  the  hearth 
of  the  hotel  kitchen.  The  coachman  is  a  good 
fairy  in  a  thin  disguise  of  overcoat  and  false 
mustache.  I  am  doubtful  of  even  you.  The 
whole  thing  is  a  delusion.  It  won't  last,  it 
can't  last!  Presently  vhe  wicked  gnome  that 
must  needs  dwell  in  a  stalactite  cavern  some- 
where hereabouts  will  start  up  and  break  the 
enchantment." 

"  It  will  never  be  broken  so  long  as  you  love 
me,"  said  Ruth,  softly.  She  smiled  at  Lynde's 
fancy,  though  his  words  had  by  no  means  badly 
expressed  her  own  sense  of  doubt  in  respect  to 
the  realitv  of  it  all. 


270  THE  QUEEN  CF  SHEBA. 

Here  the  driver  leaned  forward,  skilfully 
touching  the  ear  of  the  off-leader  with  the  tip 
of  ML  lash,  and  the  carriage  rolled  away  in  the 
blue  September  weather.  And  here  our  story 
ends  —  at  the  very  point,  if  we  understand  it, 
where  life  began  for  those  two. 


STATENORMALSCHOOL, 


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